Heart and Soul
by Philosophize
Summary: Sequel to The Power of Love: Voldemort is back, the Ministry is in denial, and Dumbledore is stalling, but Jasmine isn't alone. She and Hermione are supported by new friends, defended by two shieldmaidens, and empowered by ancient magic. Eliminating Voldemort is the least of the tasks which prophecy expects from them, but how will these witches transform the whole magical world?
1. Summertime Blues

**A/N:** Welcome to the sequel to "The Power of Love." This story picks up immediately where the last one left off, covering the summer after fourth year and all of fifth year (which has elements of canon sixth year thrown in). If you haven't first read "Yule Ball Panic" and then "The Power of Love," you should do so — this won't make much sense otherwise. Also, be aware of the fact that Voldemort is back now. This means that the story will get a bit darker and a bit more violent, at least compared to the previous two. Not every character is going to survive to the end. You have been warned.

Thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for their time and effort in helping me make so many improvements to this!

 **A/N 2:** To start, this will **only** be published once a week. That's because in a week or two, I'll start publishing the first of two other stories alongside this one. One will be the long-awaited third installment to the Witches of SHIELD series. The first is a surprise - you'll have to wait to see, but I think a lot of people will enjoy it. Once they are done, this may shift to two installments a week.

 **Fanart!** One regular reader was kind enough to create fanart that was inspired by this story. You can see her vision of Jasmine here (remove the spaces and dashes or just paste it all into Google): nightcoreowl. deviantart. -com- /art/Jasmine-Potter-584888931

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, that's owned by J.K. Rowling.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Nothing to Lose" by Writing Warriors. When Dumbledore completely isolated Harry after his fifth year, Harry came to the conclusion that he had nothing — and therefore, nothing left to lose. That changes everything. H/Hr.

 _Italics:_ people's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 01 - Summertime Blues**

 **Sunday, July 4, 1995. Early Morning.**

Jasmine Potter woke up slowly, slowly enough that when she opened her eyes she wasn't sure at first where she was. _Oh, yeah_ , she finally realized, _Privet Drive._ It took another few seconds for her to remember that this meant she wouldn't be meeting Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Ron, or anyone else for breakfast. Hermione especially. This elicited a groan of bitter disappointment, though only a small one because in truth it could have been much worse.

In the past, it **had** been much worse, in fact.

Vernon had been his usual, angry self for the whole ride home the previous evening and proceeded to berate Jasmine as soon as they were through the front door. "You, girl, are going to have to work hard this summer to make up for everything that you cost us," he had declared. "Don't think that we're going to let you laze about like your good-for-nothing parents did. This is a working household, and you're going to work! In fact, you might as well just put all of your freaky things in the cupboard, because you're not going to have time to look at any of them." This was said with a self-satisfied look that made Jasmine even more upset than she already was.

He then handed her a list of daily chores that would have required a fit adult male at least several hours of labor to complete. "Given how much you cost us in food and how much extra work you create for us, these chores are the least you can do to make it up to us normal people."

Jasmine had spent the ride home getting herself ready for the confrontation she knew was coming. Indeed, she'd known it was coming ever since she'd accepted Dumbledore's arguments that she would probably be safer behind the blood wards than anywhere else. Even Sirius had agreed that having a safe house with blood wards might be handy in the future.

She had only recently made the decision never to be a victim again, but years of negative conditioning at the hands of the Dursleys could not be swept away in an instant. Nevertheless, Jasmine was determined. She didn't realize how her regular occlumency and legilimency lessons with Hermione had improved her ability to focus and stick with a plan, especially in adverse conditions. Without that, she probably would have caved the first time Vernon shouted.

Focusing on her newfound resolve not to be victimized, she announced with an edge of steel in her voice, "No, Vernon, I will not be treated like your slave. Not anymore. I know I don't cost you that much in food because I never get to eat much of it — despite being forced to cook it — and I certainly don't consider being stuck in a cupboard to be a shining example of your generosity. A closet is where you keep tools — **things** , not people."

Jasmine was surprised when he quickly backed down, having no idea that her eyes were glowing with repressed anger or that her hair was softly undulating as if in a breeze.

"I'll consent to do the same amount of chores as Dudley," she declared, "provided that I also get the same amount of food as he does. Otherwise, forget about it and don't bother me." She then took her things up to her room, hoping that that would be the end of it.

It wouldn't be, of course. Vernon Dursley was a bully, and while bullies tend to back down in the face of superior force, they rarely stay down unless absolutely convinced that they cannot win. Vernon was afraid of magic, but once magical threats were removed from his sight, he tended to forget that they were, in fact, a threat.

Jasmine Potter wasn't aware of this shift, however, as she got up and got herself ready for her first full day of her exile in Little Whinging.

* * *

Hermione Granger also woke up slowly, and she was equally disappointed when she remembered that she wouldn't be with any of her friends that day, especially Jasmine. She was far less disappointed in her surroundings, though. She liked her bedroom and the house it was in. She also liked her parents, despite not having felt close to them for quite some time — and even that seemed like it might soon change for the better.

Jasmine had told her to give them a chance, and she intended to do just that, though she had no idea how to go about it. Luckily, her mum had taken the first step by sitting in the back seat with her for the ride home and comforting her in the wake of her separation from Jasmine. Her mum had no idea why she was so upset, and Hermione couldn't explain it — she just wasn't prepared to tell her parents the truth about that yet.

At first, her mum and dad seemed to conclude that her emotional funk was due to being separated from the boyfriend they'd assumed she had. It had taken some very careful phrasing on her part to disabuse them of that without using any gendered pronouns, so naturally they concluded that she'd broken up with said boyfriend. She **really** didn't know how to convince them that she wasn't at all upset about breaking up with a boyfriend she'd never had, and eventually she just changed the subject before she said something incriminating.

Despite clearly suspecting that there was more going on, her mother hadn't pressed the matter. Instead, she asked other questions and tried to learn more about Jasmine's home life — another subject that Hermione had to stay silent about, though she could at least say that she was told things in confidence and wouldn't betray that. Neither of her parents seemed happy about it, but once Hermione assured them that as far as she knew, Jasmine wasn't in any immediate danger from her relatives, they let it go.

She also found herself telling her parents the truth about what had happened over the past year. Well, some of it, at any rate. After having already informed them about Jasmine being entered into a dangerous tournament, she couldn't very well pretend that everything had been peaceful and happy the way she usually did. She didn't explain all of the things the headmaster had done, because she was sure tales about a headmaster who dug through students' minds and ignored parents' wishes would get her pulled from Hogwarts faster than she could say _Lumos_.

She also didn't go into the return of Voldemort because that seemed to her to not only be too terrifying to deal with, but also a bit too unbelievable for a couple of middle-class muggles. Instead, she went with the official story given to Fudge: former followers of Voldemort entered Jasmine into the tournament in order to get a chance at kidnapping her and using her in a dark ritual. She had been potioned, beaten, molested, tortured, and nearly killed before she finally got away. Her parents were suitably horrified and sympathetic without being burdened with the full truth, which Hermione counted as a win.

Still, she hadn't missed the looks her parents gave each other after that, and since this was a weekend she expected that she'd be interrogated some more. She would need to be prepared with answers — the right answers, which in her mind didn't necessarily mean the whole truth. She hated lying to her parents, and it seemed that she was having to do that more and more each year, but she simply couldn't take the chance that they'd withdraw her from Hogwarts — not before and certainly not now.

With a sigh, she got up and headed for the shower so she could get ready for church. It was automatic for her, despite having spent most of the past four years far from any church, and she gave no thought to whether church services meant anything to her anymore. Nor would she while actually at the service, because she'd be too focused on thinking up possible answers to the inevitable questions she would face.

Little did she know that events would conspire to render all that planning moot.

* * *

 **Sunday, July 4, 1995. Late Morning.**

As Susan Bones revelled in the last bite of pancakes, she struggled to figure out how to start the conversation with her aunt that she so needed to have. Every summer when she returned home from Hogwarts, her Aunt Amelia made a point of taking off the next day so they could catch up and enjoy one another's company. The day always started with their favorite breakfast, and Susan hadn't wanted to interrupt that with unpleasant topics; however, the shadows under her aunt's eyes told her just how stressful work must have been lately, and now she was reluctant to introduce her concerns at all.

"OK, breakfast is done — you can tell me what's on your mind, Suze," Amelia said, jerking her niece out of her silent debate with herself.

"Huh?" she answered intelligently.

"You don't get to be head of the DMLE without being able to read people," Amelia explained with a wry smile, "and even without that, I know you far too well. I could tell you had something troubling you even before you sat down, but I figured you wanted to deal with breakfast first. Well, that's done now, so what is it?"

Torn between embarrassment and regret, Susan just sighed. "I hate the idea of adding to your stress, auntie, because I can see that work's been hard for you…."

Amelia dismissed that with a wave of her hand. "Work isn't as important to me as you are."

Now Susan felt even worse. "Well, it's kind of about me, and it's kind of about work, too," she said, shrinking back in her seat a little.

Amelia's eyebrows rose a bit at that, evidently having expected to be regaled with typical teen drama, such as oblivious wizards or backstabbing witches. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning, then," she said, slipping slightly into her auror tone of voice.

So Susan talked, and despite her aunt's well-honed perceptiveness, she was able to hold back some key bits of information that she simply wasn't prepared to share. She told Amelia about Jasmine's fight with Malfoy and how so many at the school supported her, but without mentioning the books which Hermione's mother had sent in. She told about the study group that became the core of a practical defense group, but without mentioning either S.P.E.W. or the magical rituals.

If Amelia suspected that Susan had left out some important details, she didn't say anything.

"That's… very interesting, Suze," she finally said after her niece's tale was done. "I'm very proud of you for apologizing to Miss Potter and standing by her when she needed it. That showed a lot of maturity. I'm also impressed that so many others stood by her, even to the point of being willing to defy the Hogwarts staff if they failed to be fair." She paused to take a sip of tea before finally saying, "I'm not sure, though, why you were so hesitant to tell me, or why it would involve my work."

"It's because of the defense group," Susan explained. "Jasmine told us that You-Know-Who is back."

Amelia winced, apparently not sure if she was relieved or upset that her niece had that bit of information.

"I know that I'll be a target, too," Susan continued. "There's no way to avoid that, and that's one reason why the defense group was started: so we can defend ourselves."

"Susan," Amelia began, "you're too young to get involved in something like this, and I'm very disappointed in Miss Potter for trying to drag you in…."

"No," Susan interrupted firmly, surprising her aunt. "I'm already involved simply because of who I am — your niece, for one thing. Surely you know that you'll be one of his primary targets, which means I will be, too."

Amelia's expression hardened at that — whether in anger or tightly controlled fear, Susan couldn't be sure. Yet her voice was still calm as she said, "That doesn't mean that I want you anywhere near any actual fighting."

"And will Death Eaters be polite enough to give me a choice?" Susan asked, sarcasm creeping into her own tone. "You know, like they gave Jasmine a choice before kidnapping and molesting her?" When her aunt didn't answer immediately, she continued more softly, "I'm sorry for putting it that way, but it's true. They attacked and killed children last time, and they'll do it again. I may not have a choice about whether I'm attacked in the future, but right now I can choose to prepare myself so I can stand a chance if an attack does come."

Amelia just looked at her niece for a long moment as if she'd never seen her before. "That's a surprisingly mature attitude," she said at last, "and one that I'd hoped you wouldn't need to adopt for a few years yet. I'd rather you enjoyed your last years before adulthood, shopping and lounging by the pool with your friends."

Smiling sadly, Susan reached out and gave her aunt's hand a quick squeeze. "I wish I could, too, but the two attacks on Jasmine — one by Death Eaters who kidnapped her, and the second by the son of Death Eaters right in the castle — showed me that I no longer have that option. And I can't take all the credit for that attitude. Hermione Granger told us that she and Jasmine studied some dangerous spells to help them defend themselves. She also said that she didn't want to at first because she didn't like the idea of hurting people, but she eventually realized that she liked the thought of evil people hurting her and her loved ones even less. She knew she'd be a target no matter what, so she decided to prepare herself so she could fight."

"Granger?" Amelia asked. "Ah, I remember now — she visited Miss Potter in the hospital wing."

"She and Jasmine are best friends," Susan said. "Anyway, her words really struck home for a lot of us, even Hannah, who's pretty scared."

Amelia nodded. "OK, you want to be able to fight, and you've already started learning with your friends. What do you want from me?"

"Not just fight, but also help protect my friends — and, well, everyone else," Susan responded. "I want to resume self-defense lessons for me and Hannah. I want whatever books or teaching materials you can get me for our group to use once Hogwarts starts again. I want to know how Death Eaters operated the last time — we can use that information to better defend ourselves. And I want to know about emergency portkeys. Ideally, I'd like to be able to distribute them to students whose families are in danger — muggleborn first, then half-bloods, so-called blood traitors, etc."

Amelia's eyebrows kept rising throughout that detailed list. "You don't want much, do you?" Amelia asked.

Susan shrugged. "I volunteered for more because I thought you would be able to help. Everyone volunteered for different things, though."

"Everyone?" Amelia echoed, her curiosity piqued. "Like who?"

Susan shrugged again, not seeing anything wrong with the question. "Everyone in our study group. Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Padma Patil, Blaise Zabini, Neville Longbottom, Hannah, and Hermione. And Jasmine, of course."

Amelia blinked in surprise. Susan didn't realize it, but she had essentially just admitted to conspiring against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named with representatives from some of magical Britain's most influential families. Underage or not, her own activities would eventually put her on the Dark Lord's list of targets, regardless of who her aunt was — a fact that was not lost on the head of the DMLE.

Amelia looked thoughtful for a long moment, then said slowly, "Private lessons are doable, but not right away. I'll ask Mad-Eye to do it — I trust him, and he'll need a way to get back on his feet without too much pressure. Teaching you will do nicely, plus he'll like the idea that he'll be helping Potter and Granger indirectly. I'll also tell him to pick out some books for your group to work from. That, however, won't be possible for another couple of weeks. In the meantime, I'll give you and Hannah permission to go through the Ministry's non-classified files on Death Eater attacks." She fixed her niece with a serious expression. "This will be a job, and a very important one, too — one that you'll actually be paid for."

Susan's eyes lit up at that. "What do you want from us?" she asked.

"I'll want you and Hannah to create a report explaining their most common tactics and then provide recommendations for how to counter them." At Susan's doubtful look, she continued, "Oh, I know you two don't have training for that, and while I'll give you some books to help, I don't expect you to become experts. Actual experts digging through the archives might attract Minister Fudge's attention, and I can't risk that. No, we'll call you two summer interns, since no one pays attention to interns. People will assume you're doing pointless busy work and not give you a second glance."

Amelia paused and tapped her chin in thought for a moment before continuing, "A new and independent perspective might be helpful to us, even if it is from two students, and we can combine your ideas with our older reports to create something new for the coming conflict. And, when it comes to your own project, I think you'll do better if you are forced to really think about the problems involved instead of having pat answers simply spoonfed to you."

Susan's back straightened a bit at the trust she was being shown. "And the portkeys?" she asked hopefully.

Amelia sighed. "That's another story altogether. They are heavily regulated by the Ministry, so we can't just hand them out like chocolate frogs. On top of that, they won't work for muggles by themselves — they are powered by the magic of the users, so you'll need at least one magical person anytime a portkey is activated. What's more, a child trying to power a portkey that's transporting an entire family might end up with severe magical exhaustion at the other end."

Susan slumped in her seat, not having expected such bad news.

"I'll look into it," Amelia promised her, "but you need to be prepared to be disappointed on that one, so start looking into alternatives." Susan nodded in understanding.

"For now, though, let's just forget about all of the problems out there and have some fun," Amelia said brightly, standing up and pulling Susan out of her chair. "First some shopping, I think, including new swimsuits; then we'll spend the afternoon by the pool while you tell me about all the cute boys you've been ogling this year."

"Auntie!"

* * *

"Tell me about school, Blaise," Alessandra Zabini said as she helped her son and only child unpack. "Your letters are always so terse — it never feels like you're really telling me anything," she added with a bit of a pout. When he appeared to be at a loss for how to respond to such an open-ended question, she prompted, "Are you still friends with those two young witches?"

"Tracey and Daphne? Yes, I am," Blaise replied.

"Good, good — they seem like such nice girls," Alessandra said. "I'm sure they're good for you. But haven't you become friends with anyone else?" She prepared herself for the inevitable disappointment — she asked this question every Christmas and every summer, and every time, she always got the same answer.

"Well, yes, actually," Blaise said.

 _Morgana's knickers! Will wonders never cease?_ she thought as her eyebrows shot into her perfectly coiffed hair. Aloud, she gushed, "Really? I'm so glad to hear that, _gattino mio!_ Tell me all about them!"

Blaise explained how Daphne had gotten the idea for the three of them to apologize to Jasmine Potter for thinking that she'd cheated to get into the Triwizard Tournament and thus become part of a growing inter-house study group. He told her about how a simple attempt to make contacts and allies in other houses had evolved into the development of real friendships, and then about how those friendships ended up playing an important role in the near-rebellion of the school in anticipation of Potter being punished for defending herself against Malfoy.

As Blaise told his tale, Alessandra grew increasingly amazed at what had been going on in Hogwarts, and that her taciturn son had been so close to the center of so much of it. "Oh, my," she said as he ended his story. She'd long since given up on unpacking his trunk and was sitting beside him on his bed, trying to process it all.

"And you're sure that Miss Potter is stronger than the average student her age?" she eventually asked.

"Quite," he said. "So is her best friend, Hermione Granger, a muggleborn."

"And is this new?" she asked.

"I... I don't know. Maybe," he answered. "I never saw any sign of such power before, but I wasn't close enough to them to tell. Malfoy always derided them as weak, but I never believed him. If even half of what they said about their actions in past years is true — and frankly, I think it's all true — then they have always been reasonably strong. Perhaps they are a bit stronger now, or perhaps they are just more willing to show it now."

"Thank you, Blaise," Alessandra said as she laid long, manicured fingers lightly on his arm. Her voice still held its customary warmth, but there was a distracted look in her eyes. "I'm thrilled that you've made new friends, and even more thrilled that they are in other houses as well. But those two Gryffindor witches really intrigue me. I'm going to have to do some research…. If you think of anything else important, you will tell me, won't you?"

"Yes, Mother," he said, though she scarcely seemed to be listening as she left him to finish unpacking alone. Blaise sat there for a moment, then sighed and shook his head, not the least bit surprised that his mother had been drawn away, sidetracked by something shiny and new. He'd try to tell her more another day.

* * *

 **Sunday, July 4, 1995. Early Afternoon.**

Hermione was dragging her feet as she got out of the car after her family returned from church. She knew that an uncomfortable conversation was coming up, and she wasn't looking forward to it. It was only a scream from her mother inside the house that got Hermione moving quickly — it took her mere seconds to get through the door and enter the living room with her wand in her hand and a spell on her lips.

She gasped and pointed her wand upwards when she realized that the intruders who had caused her mother to scream were Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin and a short woman with pink hair whom she'd never seen before. "Professors!" Hermione said in confusion.

"Take care with your wand, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said mildly. "The Ministry takes a very dim view of underage magic being performed over the summer, especially by muggleborn. Self-defense is a valid excuse, of course, but it can be difficult to prove to Ministry employees, who aren't known for their tolerance or fairness." Hermione nodded and her wand shot back into her holster, eliciting a slight look of surprise from her headmaster.

"Do you know these people?" her mother asked angrily as her father came into the room with a cricket bat held high.

"Dad, stop, they aren't here to hurt us!" Hermione said quickly, putting up her hands and trying to get between her father and the three magicals who had made themselves at home while the Grangers were at church. As unhappy as she was with her headmaster, she didn't want him and her father to come to blows.

"What are they doing in our home?" her father demanded, not putting the cricket bat down.

"Please," Dumbledore said as he stood, holding his hands out in a non-threatening manner. "We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I'm the Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm here to talk to your daughter, though you are of course free to join us, as you may have questions." He ignored the muttered "told him we should wait outside" from the woman, though none of the Grangers missed it.

"Coming uninvited into someone's home is quite rude," Emma said frostily. "Especially when the owners aren't even home."

"My apologies," Dumbledore said in his best grandfatherly voice, "but I didn't think it prudent for the three of us to stand on your front porch, given that we aren't dressed like muggles."

"Very well," Lindsey said, and Dumbledore took that as an acceptance of his apology. Hermione, though, could tell that her parents accepted neither his apology nor his excuse. They may have allowed that he had no ill intent, but clearly he'd had alternatives which he had chosen not to go with.

Once everyone was seated, which only happened after Emma had served tea — they may have been uninvited intruders who scared several years off of her life, but that wouldn't have justified being uncivilized herself — Lindsey asked them, "So what's all this about, then? She just came home yesterday — what could be so sudden and important that you'd have to come here today with three people to talk to her about it?"

Dumbledore nodded, seeming to understand that he was dealing with intelligent parents who wouldn't easily miss anything. "I'll admit that we could have discussed this before she left, but the end of the year is always incredibly busy, and it would not have been appropriate to have this conversation in a public setting. In the end, I thought that coming today would be most convenient. It also gave me an opportunity to introduce my two companions here to you and to her."

Turning to them, he gestured first to one and said, "This is Remus Lupin — he was your daughter's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor during her third year." Both Grangers thawed noticeably at the name and nodded to him, remembering that Hermione had praised him several times in her letters. He then gestured to the woman, saying, "And this is Nymphadora Tonks—"

"It's just Tonks," Tonks interrupted firmly. "I don't like my first name and would prefer that it not be used." She shot Dumbledore an annoyed look which seemed to surprise him.

"Ah, yes," he said, "my apologies. I seem to have forgotten." After clearing his throat, he turned back to Hermione and said, "Remus and Tonks may stop by from time to time to check on you and make sure everything is fine. The primary reason I came today, though, is that I wanted to tell you that you must not contact Jasmine Potter in any way this summer — especially with owls."

"What?" Hermione half shouted as she jumped out of her seat, surprising the older magicals with the vehemence of her reaction. Neither of her parents looked pleased with her outburst, but they didn't immediately move to correct her, either. "How can you do such a horrible thing to her? She needs her friends! The Dursleys are cruel to her, and it's cruel of you to keep her isolated with them!"

"I can assure you, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said confidently, "that Miss Potter is just fine with her family. I'm sure she'll appreciate having the time to reconnect with them."

"And what right do you have to decide such a thing?" Hermione demanded. "You have no authority over us during the summer!"

"I'm afraid you're going to simply have to trust me on this," Dumbledore said with a weary sigh. "The situation is simply too dangerous. We can't take any chances because we don't know who might be watching or who might be able to intercept any messages. It's an unfortunate but necessary security precaution."

"That's… that's… that's absurd!" Hermione sputtered. "You can't really expect me to believe that there's no way to send secure messages in and out of a single house in Surrey? Not even magically?"

"Honey, please," Emma said as she put her hand on Hermione's arm and tried to get her to sit back down. "Let's at least hear what he has to say."

"How much danger is there?" Lindsey asked, trying to shift the topic to something that he personally thought was rather more important.

Dumbledore shrugged. "With Voldemort's return, it's tough to say. The danger for us all has increased greatly by that alone, but until he starts moving, there won't be much practical difference for most people."

Both Emma and Lindsey looked at Hermione, who buried her face in her hands. "Oops," Tonks said softly, immediately recognizing that they'd just opened up a big sack of flobberworms for the young witch.

"Voldemort?" Lindsey asked "Back? How? I thought he died back in the 1980s?"

"He was defeated on October 31, 1981," Lupin explained, "but his body was never found, and Dumbledore never believed that he was completely dead. Back in March, he was returned to a body in a vile, dark ritual that I will not describe here. Right now he is mostly moving in the shadows, trying to rebuild his forces. Eventually, though, he will move in the open again and start attacking our world more directly, just as he was doing in the 1970s. At times, that will include attacks on the muggle world as well, because he hates muggles."

"We were told last night that Jasmine had been kidnapped and then escaped," Lindsey said, "but we didn't realize that it was all part of a plot to return their old leader to life. We simply thought that Jasmine, and perhaps by extension our daughter, were in some danger because of that guy's old followers."

"I'm afraid the situation is a bit more serious than that," Dumbledore said diplomatically. "His followers are a threat, but with Voldemort back they will become more organized and thus more dangerous and active than they ever would have been before."

"So, sooner or later, we may be in danger, too?" Emma asked. When Dumbledore nodded, she continued, "Would it help if we pulled Hermione out of Hogwarts? Would they leave her and us alone, then?"

Hermione gasped in shock while Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Mrs. Granger. Your daughter is an extremely intelligent and accomplished muggleborn who is now well known to those in our world who hate the very existence of muggleborn. Such a powerful muggleborn witch flies in the face of everything they believe, so they will come after her, no matter what."

"Mum, Dad, you wouldn't!" Hermione choked out, but her parents simply ignored her.

"And besides," Lupin added, "she'd still need to go to a magical school somewhere. She's not a fully trained witch yet. Even if you went so far as to leave the country and enroll her in a school abroad, you could be found that way."

"What's more," Dumbledore said, "if Voldemort is victorious here in Britain, he will set his sights on other countries, and you would eventually be discovered."

"Is she put in more danger by associating with Jasmine Potter?" Lindsey asked, eliciting an even louder gasp and an incredibly hurt expression from his daughter, who was now practically shaking in distress.

"No, I wouldn't think so," Dumbledore said. "Quite the opposite might arguably be the case. Both are targets, but both are strong witches, and I know that Miss Potter would do anything to protect your daughter." Hermione was tempted to breathe a sigh of relief at the fact that their headmaster didn't seem to want to separate her from Jasmine anymore, but that goal was now apparently being pursued by her parents, while Dumbledore seemed prepared to separate Jasmine from **everyone**.

Both of the elder Grangers were obviously unhappy — from the moment they first thought their home had been invaded, it had been one shock after another, and this latest revelation about the threat to their daughter clearly wasn't sitting any better with them. An awkward silence fell on the room until finally Dumbledore said tentatively, "Perhaps we should leave you to discuss this, in light of the new information…."

"Yes," Emma said quickly, seizing upon the suggestion like a lifeline. "We have a lot to talk about as a family."

"Just remember, Miss Granger," the headmaster said as he followed the other two out of the room, "do not contact Miss Potter under any circumstances." Mr. Granger rose to escort them to the front door, but before he could even leave the room, they heard three cracks of apparition from the front hallway.

Hermione looked everywhere but at her parents. _I knew I'd be in for an unpleasant conversation_ , she thought, _but this just keeps getting worse and worse. And how dare he tell me that I can't contact Jasmine? He has no authority over either of us during the summer! The Dursleys are awful to her, and she needs some sort of contact with the rest of the world! I'm going to…._

"Hermione!" her mother said sharply. "Are you even listening?"

"Sorry," Hermione said distractedly, trying to extricate herself from the whirlwind in her head. "I was just thinking about why he wanted to forbid me from contacting Jasmine. She's counting on me to write, call, and even visit a couple of times."

Emma's face softened a bit as she said, "I'll agree that that doesn't sound right to me, and we should talk about it; but we have other things to discuss first."

"Right," her father said, "And let's start with: why didn't you tell us all this last night?"

"Tell you what, exactly?" Hermione asked scornfully. "That some evil terrorist has risen from the dead? Would you really have believed me?"

Emma and Lindsey looked at each other with uncomfortable expressions.

"And besides, it hardly matters. It's not like he's going to come strolling down the street and then knock on our door before personally killing me. If he targets me, he'll send his minions — the wizards I did tell you about. So for all intents and purposes, I told you about the actual threat, if it even becomes a threat any time soon. What would be the point of scaring you even more about something that won't affect you?"

Lindsey shook his head. "Be that as it may, we still expect you to tell us the truth. This affects both us and you — and as your parents, we care about your wellbeing. We need and deserve to know what is going on, for both your sake and ours."

"Yes, Hermione," Emma said. "Why would you hide such dangers from us? Why wouldn't you tell us about what you're going through?"

"Why? You can't understand!" Hermione insisted. "You can't understand what's happening in the magical world! It's not your world. You don't have to live in it." _Why do they keep pushing me like this_? she wondered. _They have to know that they can't understand what I'm going through. They don't know what magic is like. They don't know what Jasmine's life is like, or how stressful it is to have to constantly hide our relationship..._

"So **tell** us," Lindsey said with the air of a man whose death grip on his patience was slipping. "Don't keep holding things back. Trust us to be able to learn and to have your best interests at heart."

"We're not stupid, you know," Emma chided her. "We don't deserve to be kept in ignorance."

"But there's nothing you can do about any of it!" Hermione said desperately. "You're just muggles, you can't do anything!"

"'Just muggles'?" her father asked slowly, real anger coming into his voice now. "' **Just** muggles'? That sounds an awful lot like what that Voldemort person preaches, doesn't it? That muggles don't count and aren't worth anything?"

Hermione just stared at her parents, stricken by the reproachful looks on their faces. Then she collapsed on the sofa and started sobbing, horrified at her own words and unsure about where that attitude might have come from. _When did I start looking down on muggles?_ she thought despairingly. _When did I start looking down on my own_ _ **parents**_ _?_

To their credit, Emma and Lindsey moved to either side of her and pulled her into a three-way hug. They were hurt by her words, but they knew that deep down, she couldn't really have meant what she said. They wanted to believe that she was still the little girl they'd tried to raise, even if perhaps she'd gotten lost somewhere along the way. If they were mad at anyone, it was at the wizards and witches who had changed their daughter, disrupting her moral values to the point where she would treat her parents like children.

As she cried, she remembered Jasmine's words: "Try to trust and believe in them, and maybe they'll surprise you." Slowly and haltingly, she began telling them the truth about what had been happening to her over the past four years. It was an extremely difficult conversation for all of them. Hermione found it hard to share things she'd worked hard to keep hidden for so long; her parents were appalled at just how often she'd been in danger and how much she'd been concealing from them.

There was only one thing she still held back on, but she just wasn't ready to share that particular secret yet. Maybe later, when she had a better feel for how they'd react.

* * *

 **Sunday, July 4, 1995. Evening.**

Jasmine sighed as she lay down for bed. She missed Hermione terribly. She would have missed Hermione regardless, but the emotional and psychological stresses of her first full day back at Privet Drive made her long for her bushy-haired girlfriend all the more. Starting early in first year, Hermione had quickly grown into the most important person in her life; she'd also become Jasmine's anchor, providing stability and helping her weather the never-ending storms that buffeted her.

Now her anchor was missing, and Jasmine felt the gale winds threatening to overwhelm her already. _I am not weak_ , she repeated in her mind like a mantra. _I am not a victim. I do, however, need some help to deal with all of this..._

She'd certainly had worse days at Privet Drive, but this day hadn't gone nearly as well as she hoped. Overnight, Vernon seemed to have forgotten their discussion and berated Jasmine for not being in the kitchen early enough to cook them breakfast. He then laid into her about developing lazy habits at that freak school of hers and informed her that she'd need to straighten up if she was going to complete all of the work he'd been saving up for her to do.

 _I suppose I should have expected it, sooner or later_ , Jasmine realized. _Vernon has never taken 'no' for an answer — certainly not from me._

After she coldly reminded the whale of a man that she wouldn't be doing any more work than Dudley, Vernon proceeded to rant, complain, and bluster — he even looked like he might threaten violence before Petunia finally stepped in. Dudley was already backing away, and it hadn't been out of fear of Vernon, either.

Like the night before, Jasmine's magical power had begun gathering in preparation for defending her, and Dudley hadn't wanted to get caught in any resulting explosion. Vernon had tried to ignore it, hoping that if he pretended it didn't exist, it would simply go away — then he could go back to being the master of his domain, and freakish little brats like her would be kept in their rightful place.

Only Petunia had both the courage and the good sense to step in before something dire happened, pulling Vernon away while telling Jasmine to find things to do outside the house. "Gladly," she had said in a voice that resonated with power and promised a world of pain.

Spending most of the day in the local park had been only mildly irritating — it was out of the house, which was nice, but the place had a lot of bad memories from times when Dudley and his friends would bully and chase her.

Back in her room — or prison cell, as she tended to call it in acknowledgment of the bars that used to be on the window and the current multitude of locks on the door — she closed her eyes and tried to get to sleep. _I'll write Hermione tomorrow_ , she promised herself. _If I can't have her here with me, I can at least start exchanging letters._

* * *

Daphne Greengrass took a deep breath to calm her nerves before entering her father's study. Telling them things via owl post was one thing, but being interrogated personally always made her nervous. When she entered the room, she was slightly surprised to see her mother there as well, but she managed to hide it before taking her seat.

"Daphne," her father began, "I'm sorry that I wasn't able to sit down with you before this, but I had several other commitments that I needed to get out of the way first."

"Just so you know," her mother interjected, "we were both very pleased to see that you took the first step to get to know Miss Potter. We were even happier to learn that you managed to take it beyond a simple affiliation and started to become friends with her." Daphne's smile at hearing that was returned by both her parents.

"I am concerned, though, about some of the things you wrote in your more recent letters," her father continued. "One of the things I was doing today was checking with my Ministry contacts once again. All of them continue to tell me that the Ministry is not looking for You-Know-Who and does not believe that he has returned. Yet you wrote more than once that he is, that we in fact have to take extra care with our security, and that Miss Potter is involved. Can you explain?"

Daphne sat a bit straighter as she began her recitation. "I wanted to give you more details, but I wasn't sure how secure owl post would be, so I stuck to the absolute minimum so I could at least warn you. Especially in the most recent letter after Malfoy made his threats."

Her father nodded. "That's perfectly reasonable. So, what's the full story, then?"

Daphne proceeded to give them all the details of what had happened to Jasmine, from Hermione's frantic questioning in the library through Jasmine's recounting of her experiences to her friends, and finally how she herself organized school-wide support for Jasmine in the wake of the Gryffindor witch's altercation with Draco Malfoy. Both her parents were left in stunned silence, and neither seemed sure what to respond to first.

"Well… you've certainly had an interesting fourth year," her mother finally said.

"Indeed," her father agreed. "We'll leave aside your political activities at the school for the moment, as impressive as they are. The return of You-Know-Who is what we need to focus on right now." He leaned forward and fixed her with a stern look. "Are you absolutely sure that what Miss Potter told you is true?"

"Yes," Daphne said confidently. "She's an honest person — too honest for her own good, I think — and she had nothing to gain by lying to all her friends. She said she only misled the Minister because she feared that he'd sweep everything under the rug otherwise."

"Unfortunately, I think he's trying to do that anyway," her father said. "The investigation into her abduction has stalled, and my sources tell me that he wants to shut it down." He sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "Very well, if you are convinced that her story is genuine, then we'll trust your judgment and act accordingly. We'll increase security here while moving gold and other resources out of Britain." He turned to his wife and continued, "We'll also need to look at transferring the girls to another school, at least until—"

"No! You can't do that!" Daphne quite uncharacteristically blurted out.

Both of her parents looked at her in surprise. "Sorry," she said, more than a little surprised herself at her outburst because she had been trained to have more self-control than that. "It's just… it's just that I can't abandon everyone else. They're counting on me."

"Oh?" her father asked. "Counting on you for what? What exactly have you gotten yourself involved in?"

Daphne wasn't prepared to tell them all about S.P.E.W. — her parents were, after all, part of the culture that she intended to make fundamental changes to, and she didn't know how they'd react. Instead, she told them about the DA, her leadership position in it, and how all the founding members had agreed to split up research into things that would help not only them, but everyone at Hogwarts defend themselves.

When she was done, she could tell that her parents were both impressed and concerned. They liked the fact that she was making so many significant connections at such an early age, but they worried that she was placing herself in danger rather than keeping her head down.

"Perhaps that discussion about your political activities can't wait," her father said slowly. And so the three of them proceeded to talk about her intentions for the summer, what her long-term goals were, and the advisability of trying to remain neutral in the face of a resurrected Lord Voldemort.

It was a discussion that lasted until quite late, but in the end Daphne at least managed to convince her parents that she hadn't been acting recklessly.

* * *

 **A/N 3:** Mainsail recommended that I include here a brief listing of the main OCs in the story, just in case anyone has trouble remembering who is doing what.

 **Mr. Lindsey & Mrs. Emma Granger:** Hermione's parents. It's common in Harry/Hermione stories to name her parents "Dan and Emma" after the actors who played Harry and Hermione in the movies, but that wouldn't work here. So I chose the name of a redheaded actress who might have done well playing Jasmine and who happened to have a name that is often used for men - especially in England, and especially with this spelling variation.

 **Theledrion:** Ruling council for the veela.

 **Amazzi:** Veela warriors whose existence has passed into legend among muggles under the name "Amazons." Tasked with the defense of veela enclaves, they are rarely seen by outsiders.

 **Adrienne Durand:** Member of the Theledrion and a close friend of Apolline Delacour; helped train Fleur and Gabrielle.

 **Sybine Delacour:** Mother of Apolline Delacour, grandmother of Fleur and Gabrielle.

 **Phoebe Lablanc & Areto Lagrand:** Members of the Amazzi, elite veela warriors; assigned to train Fleur and Gabrielle.

 **Bet Bel:** Ruling council for the goblin nation, made up of mostly female representatives from various sectors of goblin society.

 **Hellraiser II:** Queen of the goblin nation.

 **Lufestre Gydenna:** High Priestess for the goblin nation; occasional unwilling diplomatic envoy to the veela.

 **Sharpaxe:** Representative for the military and security forces and the lone male goblin on the Bet Bel; recently named War Chief.

 **Gatekeeper:** The goblin who decides what the Bet Bel has to deal with personally.

 **Earchewer:** Senior Branch Supervisor for Gringotts, London.

 **Knobshaft:** Senior Account Manager in Gringotts, London; handles the accounts for the Potter family.


	2. Let's Get Physical

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone for reviewing, following, and favoriting this fic. I hope you're all finding this third installment of the story to be as good as the first two. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

Also, I added entries about the Amazzi and the Grangers to the list of OCs at the end of chapter 1.

 **A/N 2:** I need to make a note about dates in this story. J.K. Rowling's use of dates in her books is... creative, to say the least. The dating scheme in the first two stories of this series was based on the dates she used in _The Goblet of Fire,_ which were not the same as the actual calendar. The dates I am using in this fic are a direct continuation of that same dating scheme... and it's not the same as what JKR used in either her fifth or her sixth books! So while canon events in my last fic actually happened on the correct day/date, in this fic... not so much. Try not to think about it too hard, OK?

 **Fanart!** Nightcoreowl has created another piece, this one inspired by a scene in chapter 1: nightcoreowl. deviantart art/I-will-not-be-treated-like-your-slave-587669363

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Focus" by Luan Mao. Luna has always had problems with her ability to focus, but luckily for her, Harry has a means for reversing that... temporarily. Then Hermione learns that this same technique improves even her ability to focus and get work done. Will Harry survive the new demands being placed on him? Lunar Harmony.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 02 - Let's Get Physical**

 **Monday, July 5, 1995. Morning.**

She tried to focus on her Charms essay, she really did; but memories of the long conversation with her parents the night before kept intruding. _I'd gotten used to being distant from them_ , she thought, _but they've treated me like an adult for so long that I've also been accustomed to them trusting me... and now that's gone. Jasmine said that I should trust them and try to reconnect, but how can I do that if they don't trust_ _ **me**_ _anymore? I've buggered things up royally, haven't I?_

Hermione was interrupted from her self-recrimination by a tapping on the kitchen window. "Hedwig!" she cried happily when she saw Jasmine's snowy owl sitting outside. After letting her in and giving her some water and leftover bacon — she always made a point of having some bacon in the refrigerator for when Hedwig arrived — she started examining the owl and noticed that something was missing.

"There's no letter here," she said to herself.

 _ **Preck!**_ came Hedwig's reply.

Hermione smiled indulgently at the owl. Snowy owls — and female snowy owls in particular — had one of the widest vocal ranges of any owl species, and she always enjoyed listening to Hedwig "talk," even though only Jasmine seemed to understand—

 _ **Preck! Bark! Preck!**_

Hermione frowned. _She had a letter but it was stolen?_ she thought. _Wait, how would I know something like that?_ Hermione shook her head in confusion and shoved the idea aside as ridiculous. Not noticing the annoyed look on the owl's face, she proceeded to write a quick note to Jasmine, explaining how Hedwig had arrived without a letter and asking if everything was OK.

After attaching the note to Hedwig and opening the window for her again, Hermione returned to her homework. It was a lost cause, however, because now the mystery surrounding Hedwig and the missing message niggled at her, too. _Could this be the Headmaster's doing?_ she wondered. _He said I shouldn't contact her, but would he really go so far as to steal her own messages to her friends?_

* * *

 **Monday, July 5, 1995. Late Morning.**

Dolores Umbridge smiled gleefully, an expression that would have made small children cry had any been unlucky enough to see it. After several days of negotiations and threats, the Daily Prophet was finally on board and starting to publish the sorts of articles she wanted — articles that promoted the Minister and the Ministry while undermining confidence in both Dumbledore and that Potter brat.

The shift wouldn't be immediately noticeable — she was smart enough to know that an abrupt and dramatic change would raise questions, even among the sheep of wizarding Britain. Instead, the editor would insert her desired slant into several stories, or have stories specially written for the purpose, in every edition. That slant would increase on an almost daily basis, and by next month even the most neutral British wizard or witch would be treating Dumbledore and Potter like pariahs.

And that wasn't even taking her second plan into account….

* * *

 **Monday, July 5, 1995. Afternoon.**

Hermione's summer homework was interrupted once again when her parents arrived home — and far earlier than she had expected them. "Mum, Dad," she said as she hugged them in greeting. "You're both home so early — is anything wrong?" The hugs were a little stiff — even more so than usual — and they all knew it, which only added to the awkwardness they felt around each other.

"No, there's nothing wrong," Lindsey answered.

"Not at the office, at least," Emma added, causing Hermione's worries to redouble.

"Come on, pumpkin, let's all sit down at the kitchen table," Emma said, taking her daughter gently by the shoulder. "We need to talk." The use of the familiar pet name, something she hadn't heard in years, relaxed Hermione. But only a little.

Once they were sitting, her father began pulling some books and pamphlets out of a bag while her mother spoke. "After you went to bed, your father and I stayed up even later, continuing to talk about the situation you're in and what we as a family can do about it."

"And we will be acting as a **family** ," Lindsey said sternly. "So far you've been making decisions on your own, and while I might be willing to concede that at least some of those decisions were good ones, you shouldn't have excluded us from the process like you did. You're mature and intelligent, but you don't know everything, and you simply don't have much experience in the world."

Her mother nodded. "That's why we're home early. Last night we came up with some ideas and provisional plans. We cancelled our afternoon appointments, went out for some shopping and research at lunch, and now we're here to talk."

"Do I..." Hermione asked hesitantly, "do I get any say in any of this? Or have you already made all of the decisions for me?" The fear and bitterness in her voice were unmistakable.

"Yes," Emma said.

"Maybe," her father said at the same time.

Her parents gave each other a look, then her mother turned back to her and continued, "That's one point where your father and I disagree slightly. In principle, we agree that you should have a say — both because it's your life and it involves a world that we don't live in."

"However," Lindsey said, "the high-handed manner in which you've excluded us in the past makes me a little reluctant to take your advice at face value. I've not rejected you having a say — I'm just more of a mind that we should take your input on a case-by-case basis."

Hermione nodded while avoiding her parents' eyes. She wasn't happy about her father's attitude, but realistically, she could hardly blame him. "So... what are our options?" she asked with some trepidation.

Her father started sorting through some of the pamphlets he'd pulled out of his bag. "The first thing we looked at was leaving the country," he said, causing Hermione to nearly leap out of her seat.

"No!" she cried out. "I can't just leave!"

"If this is about that boyfriend of yours..." Lindsey responded with a frown.

"I thought you broke up with him anyway," Emma said.

"No, there's no—" Hermione tried to answer, "I mean, it's not that. I won't leave Jasmine... or any of my friends here alone!"

Her father looked confused while her mother put her hand on Hermione's arm and said, "Calm down and just hear us out." Hermione sat, but she didn't calm down. Breathing heavily, she kept looking back and forth between her parents, panicking at what might be coming.

"We're looking into it because it's the best chance of making you safe," Emma explained gently but firmly. "And as your parents, that is our **first priority** — your safety. There is literally nothing that we wouldn't do to protect you, up to and including risking our own lives. Do you really think that moving abroad is unreasonable from our perspective?"

As soon as her mother mentioned risking her life, Hermione was caught up short. It reminded her instantly of Jasmine's own parents, and how often she'd told Jasmine how much her parents must have loved her if they were willing to die to give her a chance to live. _Morgana_ , she thought as she slumped in her seat and her panic began ebbing slightly, _how can I complain about them loving me enough to risk everything to protect me?_

Emma Granger took her daughter's hand and squeezed it gently, recognizing that they were finally getting through to her, but once more wondering about the relationship between the two young girls.

"Moving abroad is not, however, an easy or quick solution," Lindsey admitted. "We'd prefer Australia because it's a Commonwealth nation, they speak English, and it's about as far from Britain as you can get. We can't make such a decision without knowing more about the situation there for magicals, though; and even if we chose today to go that route, it would take quite a while to get visas, find work, sell the business here... it's a very daunting task."

"So while we'll keep exploring that option," Emma continued, "it's not going to happen right away and may never happen. That means we need to find other ways to help protect you."

"Right," Lindsey said. "We can't help with your magic and we can't defend you magically. That leaves non-magical methods. First, we'll be improving home security — alarms, reinforced door locks, that sort of thing. I don't know how much it will help against a magical attack, but if it even delays someone by a few seconds, that might be enough time to escape." Hermione nodded, agreeing that it couldn't hurt and thinking about what sorts of things could be done to slow down an attacking witch or wizard.

"Next," Emma said, "we all need to improve our ability to defend ourselves. First and foremost, that means an exercise regimen. We're also looking into self-defense classes. Most martial arts would take a long time before we had skills that would really help us, but there are a few specialized classes designed to help an unarmed person deal with an attacker who has a knife or other weapon. Do you think that would help?"

Hermione's mind started racing at the possibilities, and after a few moments said, "Perhaps, if you can get close enough. Spells aren't usually cast at great distances, and they don't travel as fast as a bullet, so you aren't as bad off as you might be against someone with a gun. Any sort of cover or solid shield will usually help, and dodging is possible, if you're fast enough. If you can get close enough to a witch or wizard, you can disarm them."

"OK, good," Lindsey said. "That's what we'll focus on, then. That leaves exercise: running for endurance and some weight training for strength."

"Running?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"Yep," he answered. "I've made doctors appointments for us all to get checked over, but I think we're probably healthy enough to start with light running early tomorrow morning."

"Running?" she said again as her face took on an expression of horror. "Mornings?"

"I'm afraid so, sweetie," Emma replied with a wan smile. "Aside from the overall health benefits, the endurance should help you in several ways. At the very least, it will make it easier for you to run away if you can. And if you can't run away, the endurance should help you last longer in any sort of fight." Hermione didn't know a lot about magical duels, but she couldn't argue with that logic — extra endurance and strength just might help. _It's just that the idea of getting up early to run every morning_ , she thought, _is so... so... ugh!_

"Running is also something we can continue to do while on vacation," her mother went on.

"Vacation?" Hermione asked. Every summer her family did something for vacation, and with all of the heavy discussions about the dangers she'd been in, she hadn't gotten a chance to ask about that.

"Yes," Emma responded, seeming to Hermione to be a bit hesitant. "We thought we'd try something a little different this year."

"We're booked for two weeks in St. Tropez in France," Lindsey explained. "We leave on Sunday."

"A beach? There's nothing different about a beach in France — we've done that a few times," Hermione pointed out, confused now. After a pause, she added, "Aren't the beaches there topless? We've done that a couple of times, too."

"Well, uh..." Emma said, looking a bit uncomfortable, "some of the beaches there are topless, but some are nude as well."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, now more intrigued than confused. "That's... different. What made you decide on something like that?" Aside from going to topless beaches in France on a couple of occasions, Hermione had always perceived her parents as very straight-laced and conservative in their private lives. It was, in fact, one of the reasons why she was so hesitant when it came to telling them about her relationship with Jasmine.

"We've heard some good things about such beaches, and St. Tropez in particular, from some of our patients and even a few neighbors," Emma explained, "so we've been thinking about it for a while. But as to going to such a place at all, well, we wanted to do something a little different. A bit more, uh, adventurous."

"At the same time, we've also been thinking for several months about how we could reconnect with you," Lindsey said, "and one idea we had was to do something out of the ordinary — familiar enough to be comfortable, but different enough that we wouldn't easily fall into old habits of interaction, because that's what we need to change. Since your mother and I were already talking about going there... well, it seemed like a helpful coincidence."

"That was your father's argument, at any rate," Emma said, giving her husband a sidelong glance. Turning back to Hermione, she continued, "St. Tropez might not have been my first choice for such a solution, but I agreed with the goal and couldn't come up with any better ideas. And, like he said, we were talking about going there anyway. Regardless, we don't have to go there if it will make you uncomfortable," Emma insisted, looking less than comfortable herself. "I didn't get the impression that there were, uh, **regular** beaches there, so if it bothers you, we'll change our plans."

Hermione bit her bottom lip in thought, turning the idea around in her mind. _I've been to topless beaches a few times, but that was when I was younger. A year or two ago a nude beach might have been a bit awkward_ , she admitted, _but after Eostre and Beltane... well, I've done a whole lot more than just lie in the sun while nude in public!_

"No," Hermione said nonchalantly and with a slight smile. "I'm fine with it. I think it'll be fun." This was greeted with expressions of surprise and relief from her parents. Looking at them closely, she wondered at their real reasons for picking St. Tropez — what exactly did they mean about wanting a more _adventurous_ vacation? Then something occurred to her. "I made some friends from the French magical school this past year. Is it OK if I write them and let them know where we'll be and when? It's possible that one or more will be able to meet up with us."

"Sure," Emma said as she started digging through some papers in order to find the flight and hotel information. "Who are your friends, anyway?"

"Fleur Delacour, the French champion from the tournament," Hermione answered. "There's also her sister, Gabrielle; her mother, Apolline; and a family friend named Adrienne. I met a few others, but those are the ones Jasmine and I were closest to.

"Speaking of Jasmine," her father said, "I wanted to talk about her and exercising."

"What about her?"

"Well, she can't be here with us," her mother pointed out. "What is her fitness level like?"

Hermione felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she looked down at the table, mumbling softly, "Oh, she's fit alright." Suddenly all Hermione could think about was Jasmine's body in the forest... Jasmine's body in the ritual circle on Beltane... her own body stretched out against Jasmine in one of their beds…. "Pretty damned fit," she said under her breath.

"What was that?" Emma asked, a confused look on her face.

"Oh, uh, Quidditch keeps her pretty fit," Hermione said quickly, flushing even more.

"OK, then," Lindsey said with a frown, "that's a start, but you should probably tell her in your next letter about the exercise program we're doing and recommend that she try to do something similar on her own."

"I can even write it out and explain it, if you'd like," Emma added.

"But, uh, the headmaster said I shouldn't..." Hermione tried to object.

Her father simply shook his head, and her mother rolled her eyes before saying, "Yes, and we all know just how likely it is that you're going to follow those orders — am I right?" Hermione turned pink again and tried to look away. "Don't worry, pumpkin, I happen to agree with you. Isolating a teenager like that would be a bad idea even if her family were wonderful, and I could see that that wasn't the case. However good your headmaster's intentions may be, his execution is horrible. Just so long as you're careful about how you contact her, we'll support you."

Hermione looked back up to see that both of her parents were smiling at her, something they hadn't done since getting in the car at King's Cross Station the day before. "Thank you," she said softly, tears welling up in her eyes.

Her mother stood up and hugged her as she knelt next to Hermione's chair. "We both love you very much, Hermione, and we want what's best for you. We just need you to work with us instead of going off on your own, OK?" Hermione nodded into her mother's shoulder, feeling both ashamed at how she'd excluded them from her life and grateful that they seemed to be forgiving her. Maybe she hadn't ruined her chances of reconnecting with them after all.

* * *

 **Tuesday, July 6, 1995. Morning.**

She felt like her lungs were on fire. She was certain that her legs were about to fall off. She'd have done anything to end this horrible torture — torture made all the worse by the fact that it was her parents who were inflicting it on her! "Are we—" _**gasp!**_ "—there yet?" she heaved.

"Almost... pumpkin," Lindsey panted, struggling a bit himself, though not nearly as much as Hermione was.

When they finally reached the house, her parents led her around to the back yard, where she was forced to stretch and walk around a little to prevent cramps. "And how far was that?" she asked as she finally got some of her breath back.

"Two kilometers," Emma answered, recovering faster than Hermione. "Like we said, we're only starting out easy until we get physicals."

"Two kilometers?!" Hermione asked disbelievingly. "It felt more like twenty!"

"Sorry, pumpkin," her father said, but while his tone sounded sympathetic enough, she was sure that he was laughing at her on the inside.

"And why do we have to do it so early in the morning?" she whinged.

"Because it's going to be a hot summer," Emma answered, wiping at her face. "And mornings will be cooler. Besides, exercising in the morning helps give you energy for the rest of the day."

"Is that Jasmine's owl?" Lindsey asked suddenly, pointing up into the largest tree that grew in their backyard.

Hermione looked and immediately recognized the snowy bird. "Hedwig!" she called, holding out her arm for the owl to land on. "Come on down!"

When the owl didn't immediately come to her, she called again, "Hedwig? Are you alright?" After staring at Hermione for a long moment, she finally came down, but all three Grangers could tell that there was something wrong. Once she landed, Hermione could clearly see missing and broken feathers, and there was even some blood on one of her wings.

"Oh, Hedwig!" Hermione said sadly, trying to gently smooth her feathers. It was obvious that the owl was in distress, but she seemed to be comforted by Hermione's touch.

 _ **Preck! Bark! Bark!**_

"Do you know what happened to her?" Emma asked.

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I... well, no, she was attacked and her message was stolen. Again, in fact. She tried to fight them off, but she got injured."

"How do you know that?" Lindsey asked curiously.

"I... I don't know," Hermione answered. "I'm not sure that I do. Maybe I'm just guessing or something."

Hedwig irritably fluffed out her feathers and nipped at the hand she was standing on.

"Hey!" Hermione complained. "That hurt!"

 _ **Preck!**_

"Well, how would I know?"

 _ **Bark! Preck!**_

"Don't give me that!"

"Hermione, are you talking to Hedwig?" Emma asked slowly.

"What?" Hermione responded. "Of course not, only Jasmine can do that. Come on, let's get Hedwig in the house."

Once inside, Hermione was able to do a better job of getting Hedwig cleaned up. After giving her some water and bacon, she went to her room and came back down with a piece of parchment. "What's that?" her father asked.

"Jasmine gave me the Dursleys' phone number," Hermione answered. "I haven't wanted to use it because I don't want to get her into trouble — she had a lot of problems with her aunt and uncle after Ron called her the summer before third year. I only got it for emergencies, but right now I think this qualifies — two trips in a row without a message at the end, and now Hedwig's hurt."

The phone was answered after just two rings. "Hello, is this the Dursley residence? Oh, good. My name is Hermione Granger. May I speak— What? No, I'm not little Duddy's girlfriend! I'm calling for Jasmine Potter. May I speak to her, please? ...Yes, I know about her, I'm a friend of hers. From school. ...Yes, **that** school. ...She is **not** a freak! And I can use a phone because I grew up with telephones. My parents are perfectly respectable dentists, I'll have you know. ...Thank you, I'll hold."

In response to her mother's surprised expression, Hermione whispered, "Petunia Dursley, Jasmine's aunt. A horrid, horrid woman — and I think that was her being **nice**." Abruptly she turned back to the phone.

"Jasmine! Oh, I'm so glad I could reach you! Yes, Hedwig arrived, but she had no message, same as yesterday. ...You, too? Well, this time she was injured, too. ...Not too bad — she did make it here. She has some missing and broken feathers, and there was a bit of blood, but no obvious wounds. And no broken bones, at least not that I can tell. ...Of course, I'll be happy to keep her here. My parents like her, too." Both Emma and Lindsey smiled and nodded at that.

"Yeah, I miss you, too. ...Ugh, exercising! Yes, my parents have decided that it's a good idea to torture me with running so that I'll be fitter and have more physical endurance." The adults rolled their eyes at this comment.

"Oh, Wood made you all run, too? I guess that make sense. You, uh, certainly looked like it. That was actually something I was going to write to you about — to recommend that you exercise, too. ...I just hate the way it makes me all sweaty and sticky! It's so uncomfortable! I so desperately need a long shower right now."

Suddenly Hermione started blushing and stuttering. "No... yes... uh... yeah... well, there's nothing wrong with... Of course stamina is useful... You… you would? I mean, is that even...? Really? My parents' shower is big enough to... oh! And... oh!"

Hermione's blushing just got worse and worse, then she started squirming in her seat. Finally she said, "I'm glad that you're alright, but I really want to go take a shower! I mean, I need to! Take a shower! Right! I'll call you back tomorrow, then, OK! Bye!" She slammed the phone down and looked around a bit desperately.

"Is everything OK?" Emma asked uncertainly.

"Yes!" Hermione answered rather quickly. "I'm, uh, going to take a shower! Bye!" She fled, running for the bathroom on the second floor while her parents just watched her go, baffled.

Lindsey shook his head. "All this fuss about trying to get in touch with her, and then she practically hangs up on her in favor of personal hygiene. It's official: someone has taken our sweet little girl and replaced her with a raving teenager." He sighed ruefully. "I'm really not sure I'm ready for this…."

Emma patted his arm in sympathy. "It was bound to happen sometime, dear." Privately, though, she couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't more going on than met the eyes.

* * *

 **Wednesday, July 7, 1995. Morning.**

When Hermione tried to call Jasmine again the next day, instead of hearing the dulcet tones of Petunia Dursley, she got the message: "The number you have dialled has not been recognised, please check and try again."

Confused, Hermione dialed the number again, more slowly this time and checking it against what she had on parchment. Once again, she got the same message. "This can't be right," she said aloud to no one in particular — her parents had already left, and Hedwig was sleeping on a spare perch which Hermione had gotten for her two years earlier. "This number worked yesterday, and I can't imagine that it would be having problems now."

So she tried for a third time. Instead of ringing or the message, though, she got loud static — so loud that she had to move the handset away from her ear. "This can't be good," she muttered. Unfortunately there was no one she could contact for help. No one that she could call could help her with the magical world, and she wouldn't be able to contact anyone magical until Hedwig was healed.

 _Well, maybe I can try muggle post... I still have Jasmine's address, somewhere_ , she finally concluded. _But I doubt I'll get a reply in what little time I have left before we leave for France…._

* * *

Jasmine looked around at the walls of her room again. And again. She could go out, but after having spent a couple of days at the local park, she just wasn't all that interested. So she decided to stay in with the intention of getting started on her summer homework. That plan didn't last long, though, and she was becoming incredibly bored looking at the same, boring walls day after boring day.

 _Has it really only been three days?_ Jasmine wondered. _It usually takes longer for me to get this frustrated and bored. I wish Hermione would call again. Or write. Or something._

She sighed glumly and eyed the blank piece of parchment that she had gotten out an hour ago. _Maybe I'll try that Charms essay again._

* * *

 **Thursday, July 8, 1995. Morning.**

"Hermione, there's an owl here for you!"

Only just having finished showering after their morning run, Hermione came downstairs in her bathrobe. "Won't it let you take the message?" she asked her mother.

"No," Emma answered. "I tried, but it... well, it got rather snooty with me and refused to turn it over."

The mystery was quickly solved when she saw the seal on the parchment envelope. "Oh, this message is from Gringotts. The goblins have very strict rules about who can accept their letters." After taking the letter and trying to offer the regal-looking owl some bacon — which was refused — Hermione sat down to see what the goblins wanted with her while her mother let the owl back out the window.

"Well?" Emma asked. Hermione couldn't help but notice that while previously her mother wouldn't have asked, it seemed like part of the loss of trust meant her parents asked a lot more questions about what she was doing, especially when it involved magic.

"Huh," Hermione said after skimming through the letter quickly. "It's the results of the audit that was done on Jasmine's Gringotts' vaults."

"Why would you be getting it?" Lindsey wondered.

Hermione frowned, then explained, "She's been having trouble getting her mail — even from Gringotts, which is supposed to be really secure. They finished the audit a while ago, but they couldn't come up with a way to guarantee that she'd get this, especially while she was still in the castle. So they decided that I would be safe and reliable, at least once I got out into the muggle world for the summer."

Hermione set the letter down and made to open the packet which contained all the details about the audit, then stopped. While her mother tried to read some of the letter upside down, Hermione considered whether she really should read the audit information. _Jasmine did promise that if we're going to build a life together, then all of her money would be mine as well_ , Hermione remembered, _but I'm still not entirely comfortable with that. Besides, this money belongs to Jasmine alone right now, and she should at least be the first to see it._

After waffling between her options for another long moment, she looked at her mother and decided that maybe this would be a good time to ask for advice. "Should I open it? It's Jasmine's, which means I shouldn't. But if there's a problem, Jasmine might not find out for a while, so maybe I should? But then again, I wouldn't be able to do anything if there is a problem, right?"

Putting her hand on her daughter's, Emma said, "If there was an emergency, or if there was a very serious problem, I think they'd have said so in the letter to you. So whatever is in there, I think it can wait. At least for a little while."

Brightening at that, Hermione thanked her mother and took the packet up to her trunk. Meanwhile, Emma Granger was left wondering why goblin bankers would choose to send her daughter so much confidential financial information about her friend when they were normally so strict about such things.

* * *

 **Friday, July 9, 1995. Late Morning.**

It had been three days since Hermione had been able to speak to Jasmine on the phone — three days in which every phone call she tried to make was met with horrible static. Even the conversation on Tuesday had been cut short — something she'd been regretting ever since — because Jasmine started distracting her with talk about getting hot and sweaty together (presumably from running, though she couldn't be sure) and needing a long, lingering shower and….

 _Stop!_ she told herself. _Focus!_

She'd written Jasmine a letter and sent it via muggle post, but that had been two days earlier, and she simply didn't have the patience to wait any longer. That's why she was now on a train just entering Surrey, and she needed to pay attention so she wouldn't miss her stop. She was too young to drive herself, but fortunately the trip wasn't too complex — she'd only had to change trains once, then walk a bit. She knew she could have taken the Knight Bus, but she decided against it in case it was being watched — whether by Death Eaters or by Dumbledore.

Right now, she wanted to avoid them both equally.

When the train finally arrived at the right stop, she exited and began what she estimated would be a fifteen minute walk to Jasmine's house. She was careful enough to keep checking behind her to make sure she wasn't being followed, and everything went well until she turned onto Privet Drive. Just minutes from her destination, Remus Lupin stepped out of nowhere and blocked her way.

"Miss Granger," he said quietly, "you know you're not supposed to be here. I'm very disappointed in you."

She had always liked Lupin, but after days of endless frustration, something inside her snapped at being thwarted so close to her goal. "Oh, really?" she drawled as she backed up a step. "You're disappointed that I would care enough about Jasmine to seek her out and spend time with her? I guess that explains why **you** never did that in all the years she was growing up as a slave in that prison the Headmaster stuck her in."

Lupin looked stricken by her words, which had been her intent. He had been her favorite Defense instructor, but after she and Jasmine started writing down the problems and oddities in her life, Lupin's absence despite being her parents' friend stood out. Why had he never visited? Or never written a letter — not even after she entered Hogwarts? Hermione couldn't imagine abandoning Jasmine or any of Jasmine's children like that, and her respect for him had suffered as a result.

Which made it all the easier for her to lash out now.

"Dumbledore assures us that she is safest with her relatives," Lupin insisted.

"And have you ever bothered to ask **Jasmine** what her home life is like?" Hermione shot back. "Do you even **care**?"

That seemed to stop him for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "That's unfair," Lupin said. "I'm just doing what the Headmaster wants, which is what you should be doing as well."

"Why?" Hermione asked belligerently.

"What?" Lupin responded, confused. "He's... he's Albus Dumbledore, of course. And he's your headmaster."

"As headmaster," Hermione retorted, "he has no authority over me or Jasmine during the summer. He can express his opinions about what we should do, but that's all — we don't have to obey."

Lupin shook his head. "I don't know where this hostility towards the Headmaster has come from, but it's certainly not justified. He only has the best interests of you and Miss Potter at..."

"Once again, did you ever bother to ask me or Jasmine what **we** think about that?" Hermione asked. "Or do you simply follow orders blindly?"

Lupin actually took a step back at that question, so Hermione pressed further. "I'm going to visit Jasmine, and there's nothing you can do about it. You have no authority over me whatsoever, no more than the Headmaster does. Out here in the muggle world, you're just another middle-aged man standing on the side of the street."

As she started moving forward, Lupin held out his hand to grab her, but she twisted away. "If you touch me, I'll scream," she warned, her expression making it clear that she wasn't bluffing. "The muggles around here won't hesitate to help a screaming teen girl who's being grabbed by a scruffy older man." Lupin's eyes widened in shock as he digested her words, giving her time to step around him and start moving quickly towards #4 and Jasmine.

Then everything went black.

* * *

 **Friday, July 9, 1995. Evening.**

When Hermione came back to consciousness, she found herself lying on the sofa of her living room with her parents peering down at her. Lupin was there, too, with an apologetic expression on his face; but as soon as Hermione saw him she lept off the couch, flicked her wand into her hand, and stalked in his direction. "What did you do to me?!" she shouted.

Both her parents were stunned into silence, and Lupin himself barely got out of the chair before she reached it. "Miss Granger!" he said indignantly as he stepped back, just in case he needed to put the chair between her and him. "I only did what was necessary!"

"It was necessary to stun a teen witch in the middle of a muggle neighborhood in broad daylight?!" she exploded. "What gave you the right? What gave you the authority?"

"I'm simply doing what Albus Dumbledore has asked me to do," he tried to say. "In fact, I really should report this to him, but in deference to your relationship to Miss Potter I'll let this one go. Next time, though, I won't be so lenient."

"Oh, don't worry about there being a next time, **Professor,** " she spat. "I won't be turning my back on you again."

Lupin rocked back as if struck. He looked as though he were about to protest, but then his gaze was caught by the tip of her wand, which was now glowing. "Miss Granger," he reminded her uneasily, "you cannot use magic outside of school."

"And you aren't supposed to use magic in front of muggles," she pointed out.

"That's why I cast a wide notice-me-not charm before I… er, stunned you," he said, now seeming to question whether that had been a good idea after all.

"And I'm allowed to use magic in self-defense," she countered. "I think that being attacked by an old man qualifies. What do you think the DMLE will say when they question me about it, huh?" No need to point out that as a werewolf, he'd almost certainly not be believed over her, despite her blood status.

Whatever thoughts were going through his mind at the implied threat, they were driven out when he saw that her eyes were glowing as brightly as her wand.

Suspecting that getting into a duel with a teen witch would not go over well with anyone, no matter what the outcome, he decided to cut his visit — and his losses — short. "I'm sorry you feel that way and I hope you reconsider," he said very quickly. "Good day!" And with a crack, he apparated right out of the Grangers' living room.

"That... that... ohh!" Hermione sputtered. "That bastard!"

"Hermione, language!" her mother chastised her.

"I was right there on her street, Mum!" Hermione fumed. "I was just a couple of minutes away from her house! From seeing her!"

"Hermione, he told us that he had to stun you because you were fighting and belligerent," her father said.

"That **liar**!" Hermione screeched, but then realized that her behavior would probably only serve to make her ex-professor look more credible. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, then tried again. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, but I'm simply beyond angry that a former professor of mine would attack me like that! All I did was tell him that the Headmaster had no authority over my movements in the summer, and when he went to grab me, I threatened to scream."

"That's it?" Emma asked.

Hermione stopped and thought about it carefully for a moment, then said, "Aside from making clear my opinion about being kept apart from my friend by people who had no authority over us, yes. I won't deny that I expressed my anger that he'd presume to stop me on the street like that, but after threatening to scream if he grabbed me, I simply stepped around him and continued on my way. Then... well, that's when he must have stunned me, because the next thing I knew, I ended up here."

Lindsey shook his head. "I'm rather glad he's not your professor anymore. I know you said good things about him when he was teaching you, but he didn't handle that well at all." He paused for a moment, then said pointedly, "Neither did you, I suspect. As justified as your anger may be, you need to avoid lashing out like you just tried to do. You can't use or even just threaten violence to solve your disagreements with others."

"Your father's right, pumpkin," Emma said. "You can't criticize Lupin for using magic to forcefully stop you if you're going to turn around and use violence against him because he upset you. You can't descend to their level — you need to learn how to resolve disagreements by talking things out, just as we taught you when you were growing up."

Hermione simply nodded, accepting the criticism and not mentioning how she'd been reconsidering some of the lessons her parents had taught her. As she now knew all too well, not all disagreements could be talked out, because not everyone cared about talking. Still, she had to admit that she hadn't been thinking very clearly — she had just been overwhelmed by rage that came out of nowhere. Suddenly she looked down and realized her wand was still in her hand, and she hastily flicked it back into its holster.

"Why does your headmaster think he has the right to tell you where you can and can't go during the summer?" Lindsey asked.

Hermione sighed and sat back on the couch. "He seems to think he has the right to do whatever he wants if the goals are important enough. It doesn't matter what others think — he just acts as he sees fit and never asks for anyone else's opinion." Hermione shook her head. "Jasmine and I have been wondering for several months what's wrong with him and why he behaves like this. We just haven't come to any conclusions."

"Let's have dinner, pumpkin," Emma said, offering Hermione a hand. "We can talk more about this while we eat."

* * *

 **Saturday, July 10, 1995. Afternoon.**

Hermione exited the Owl Post Office and headed for Flourish & Blotts to meet her parents. Normally she'd have been right there with them, browsing for new books, but she really didn't want to look through books about magical education in other nations, which was their reason for going there. By entering the book store later, she hoped to have a chance to go off on her own to find something more interesting. Or at least something less distressing.

More important, though, was the fact that she desperately needed to contact _someone,_ and she wasn't sure Hedwig would be a good choice. Even though she was now healed enough to release, Hermione didn't want to take the chance that she might be tracked and attacked again if she were seen carrying a message. Tomorrow she'd send Hedwig to Neville for sanctuary, but she'd tell her to choose a long route and take it slowly.

That's why she'd chosen to use publicly available owls and hoped that at least one of them made it through — she had just sent out more-or-less identical letters to Neville, Ginny and Ron, and Sirius. She knew that there probably wasn't anything they could do to help, at least not directly; but the more people who knew about her predicament, the more hope she had of a solution being found.

Hermione never noticed the figure in a dark cloak that had been waiting for her outside the Owl Post Office and which then followed her to Flourish & Blotts. He waited outside there, too, then followed the Granger family out of Diagon Alley when they finally left two hours later. The cloaked figure managed to tail them through muggle London and even onto a muggle bus by using a silent confundus charm, but then lost them in Victoria Station.

Cursing to himself, he ducked into an alley and apparated home, making plans for how to do better next time if another opportunity presented itself.


	3. Parents Just Don't Understand

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that so many are enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving the original so much. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

Just to be clear about the posting schedule, I do intend to go back to two chapters per week, but only after the crossovers are finished publishing. Two chapters of this plus one chapter of another story is simply too much for my beta readers to do in a single week.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "0800-Rent-A-Hero" by brainthief. Harry Potter is settled in his new life after the war when he's violently ripped out of this reality and dragged into a new one where the Order of the Phoenix is desperate for a hero to help their chosen one — Iris Potter — solve their Voldemort problem. Harry is not amused.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 03 - Parents Just Don't Understand**

 **Sunday, July 11, 1995. Morning.**

Finally able to relax now that the first leg of their trip to St. Tropez was underway, Emma Granger took some time to try to figure out the mystery that her daughter and only child had become. _Well, more of a mystery than she has been_ , Emma was forced to correct herself. She and her husband had long been concerned about the fact that an unbridgeable gulf seemed to have opened up between them and their daughter. They simply didn't know her anymore, and while they couldn't pinpoint exactly when the problem started, they suspected it could be traced to when she was rather young — and that their treatment of her as being much more mature than her years had played a role in that.

It had seemed so reasonable at the time because she had proven herself to be incredibly smart, self-motivated, and indeed mature. It became easy to forget just how young she really was, given how adult her knowledge and language could be. And, truth be told, it was often easier and more convenient for their own lives. They had been constantly pressed for time when they first started their joint dental practice, and being able to leave Hermione to her own devices had seemed like such a godsend at the time.

 _We assumed that she was happiest when pursuing her own interests and learning at her own pace_ , Emma reflected, _but our not being there to help and guide her meant that we were too often absent during critical periods of her childhood development. And then, once we started to have more time that we could have devoted to her, we found out she was a witch, and she started spending ten months out of the year in a boarding school in Scotland. Had she attended a local school like we originally expected, it would have been different. Instead we have been excluded from everything she has been learning and doing... and now she's a virtual stranger._

That wasn't the new mystery, though. That was the old mystery, and one that both Emma and her husband were optimistic they could deal with that summer. Learning just how many dangerous things she'd been keeping from them disappointed them beyond measure, but it also meant that they now knew far more about her life than they had before — things that had been critical in her development as a person, but which they had been shut out from.

The new mystery was the nature of her daughter's various relationships. _Why hasn't she told us more about her boyfriend_? she wondered. _Not even his name! Every time he comes up, she changes the subject, but she insists that she hasn't broken up with him. Did something happen between them? A fight, maybe? Oh, I do hope it wasn't some sort of sexual assault that she's ashamed about — I'll need to get a couple of books on the subject so I can look up the signs for that._

Then there was her best friend, the Potter girl. Emma and Lindsey had been hearing about Jasmine almost constantly since shortly after Halloween in Hermione's first year. Every letter tended to have more about Jasmine than anyone or anything else, and at times they thought they might know Jasmine better than they knew their own daughter. _I wish I could figure out why Hermione's reactions to anything involving Jasmine are so extreme. Why is she so upset over a brief separation, even if it is from her best friend?_ _Is it just something magical that I won't be able to understand, or is it something more mundane? I don't think she used to be that way._

Emma frowned slightly as she looked at her daughter in the plane seat next to her, who as usual had her nose buried in a book. Looking more closely, though, she noticed an expression of worry, something that had hardly left Hermione's face over the past week. _Maybe she'll relax and get distracted a little at the beach_ , Emma thought hopefully, _and maybe that will give me a chance to find out more._

* * *

Molly Weasley had been surprised when her two youngest children volunteered to rid the garden of gnomes without having to be asked. It was the first time they'd ever done that, and she was suspicious at first; but after watching Ron and Ginny carefully for a bit, she decided that their offer had been made without ulterior motives and went back to work herself.

"Is she gone?" Ron asked quietly.

"Yeah," Ginny answered, "and it's about time, too. I thought she'd never leave us alone."

Ron sighed in relief. "Right, then — any thoughts about Hermione's message?" He and his sister had been pleased when they got Hermione's letter the previous day, then shocked at what she had written. It was bad enough that she couldn't get in contact with Jasmine in any way, but the idea that a former professor would stun her in the middle of a muggle street was incredible.

"Not really," Ginny said, shaking her head as she chucked another gnome over the fence. "It's got to be tough on Jasmine, not being allowed any outside contact."

"Do you think Mum is in on it?" Ron asked.

Ginny stopped to consider that. "I really don't know. We could try writing a letter to Jasmine and see if she tries to stop us."

Ron nodded, liking that plan. "Do you think the twins might be able to help?"

Ginny started to answer, then stopped and seemed to change her mind. "I was going to say that that was a good idea," Ginny said, "but near the end of term they started acting... differently. More reserved and cautious, not like their usual selves."

"They did get caught in a couple of major pranks." Ron pointed out. "Maybe it's made them a little less daring?"

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe, but they've been caught before, and it didn't change anything."

"Why do you suppose Hermione is so upset?" Ron suddenly asked. "I mean, of course she's unhappy about it — I don't like it either. But Hermione seems... I dunno, a bit over the top." Ron didn't notice his sister go still as he paused for a moment before continuing, "As a matter of fact, they both seemed to be a bit over the top whenever it came to something happening to the other. More so this past year than in previous years, I'd say."

"Dunno, Ron," Ginny said, trying very hard to be casual. "Are you sure you haven't been imagining things?"

Ron scowled at her. "Look, I may not be the most observant bloke in the world, but I'm not **completely** thick — there was definitely something strange going on last year. You got a lot closer to them, so I thought you might have noticed something."

Ginny shook her head firmly. "Nope, sorry."

Ron frowned at Ginny's back as she tossed another gnome over the fence. He was sure that she knew more than she was letting on, but apparently asking directly wouldn't get him anywhere. He'd have to try something different, but he wasn't exactly sure what. He wasn't a Slytherin, and being sneaky just didn't come naturally to him.

* * *

 **Sunday, July 11, 1995. Late Afternoon.**

"Pad?" came a voice from the open bedroom door, and Padma looked up from her Potions essay to see her sister standing in the doorway, looking more than a bit hesitant. "Can we talk? Just you and me?"

Padma sighed and motioned her sister to come in. She'd been expecting this for a couple of days now. She'd known that she had changed at the end the spring term, but it wasn't until she'd gotten home and spent time around her twin that she'd realized just how **much** she'd changed. And was still changing. Her entire family had noticed, but whereas her parents seemed to accept the explanation that it was simply a difference in growth spurts, Parvati clearly had doubts — and those doubts seemed to grow every time the two of them lounged around the pool, where the differences in physical development became impossible to ignore.

Even Padma, despite her focus on academics, couldn't help but think about how much she was developing physically — not just height and muscle mass, but hips and bust as well. She knew that Parvati, who obsessed about looks and fashion, must have been thinking about it non-stop.

Aside from any envy Parvati might be feeling, there was the fact that as twins, they'd always looked so much alike, even when they deliberately tried to look different. But now Padma's changes were separating them in ways that even being sorted into different houses at Hogwarts hadn't.

After the door had been closed and Parvati was sitting on the bed, Padma asked, "So, what's up?"

Parvati hesitated for a moment, obviously trying to choose her words, then finally said simply, "You've changed. A lot. What happened to you?"

Padma shrugged, hoping for nonchalance. "Like I said to Mum and Dad, I must be getting my growth spurt earlier than you."

Parvati scoffed. "Don't lie, Pad. Not to me — please. I know there's more to it than that."

Padma looked down, avoiding her sister's eyes. _I hate lying to her_ , she thought, _and I shouldn't have even bothered trying — we can always tell. Even though I don't know the full story, I know that something about that ritual affected me. I just don't know how... and I certainly can't tell Parvi._

Before she could come up with a response, her sister asked, "It has something to do with Jasmine and Hermione, doesn't it?"

Padma looked up in surprise, and Parvati said, "Oh, don't give me that look. I may not be in Ravenclaw, but I'm not stupid. Neither is Lavender." Padma's skepticism must have been just as plain as her surprise, because Parvati continued irritably, "It's true! Just because we like makeup and clothes doesn't mean we're airheads. We've lived with those two for ten months a year for the past four years, so it wasn't hard to notice significant changes in their bodies during last term. They're both taller and fitter, and... curvier," she added, gesturing helplessly. "Sure, we're all changing, but those two changed a lot more and a lot faster than anyone else. Then we also noticed that you and the rest of their closest friends — well, the witches, at least — all just **happened** to start changing right at the end of the year, though not as much."

Padma looked at her sister with a new appreciation. "I guess your interest in clothing and such actually helped you notice the changes, even through our bulky Hogwarts robes," she finally conceded.

Parvati smiled — a bit smugly, it seemed to Padma, though she also thought she could detect something else there as well. _Jealousy, perhaps?_ _Jealousy that I'm filling out?_

"I'm sorry, Parvi," she said, "but I can't tell you what I've been doing. It's nothing bad, I can promise you that; but it's not my secret to tell. I'm really sorry." When she saw how upset that made her sister, she tried to comfort her by adding, "I'm sure what's happened to me will happen to you, too. It might just take a little longer until you fill out the same..."

"No!" Parvati interrupted her. "It's not that! I mean, well, I certainly wouldn't mind filling out as much as you have already, but that's not..." She sighed as she trailed off, clearly having trouble explaining. "It's just that, well, we're all Gryffindors, but you're Ravenclaw, you know?"

And suddenly it clicked for Padma. Her sister was jealous not of Padma's recent physical changes, but of her relationship with Jasmine and Hermione. Those two were Gryffindors, but instead of sharing whatever was going on with their fellow Gryffindors, they had instead chosen to share with a Ravenclaw, a couple of Hufflepuffs, and a couple of Slytherins. Parvati was feeling like she'd been snubbed in favor of her sister and was having trouble dealing with it — especially when faced with the obvious and interesting consequences of the relationships she was missing out on.

"Oh, Parvi," she said as she moved to the bed and put her arm around her twin's shoulders. She couldn't help but feel sorry for her, despite the fact that the problem was pretty much her own fault. "I know that you and Lavender were really supportive of those two in your common room recently. They told me later how surprised and impressed they were."

"Really?" Parvati asked. "They never said anything."

"You two treated them pretty badly over the Triwizard Tournament," Padma pointed out, "and they're not quick to forget that sort of thing. You just need to show that you've changed. Keep showing that you can be counted on, like in the DA and our new witches' group next term."

"You think it'll help?" Parvati asked. "Do you think we'll be accepted like you are?"

"It will take time, so be patient," Padma said, "but yes, Parvi, I do think so."

"Thanks," Parvati said softly as she put her arm around her sister and leaned into her shoulder. "So," she added after a few moments, "when can Lav and I take you shopping for new clothes to fit that rockin' new body you have?"

Padma huffed and gave her a shove, only for her sister to retaliate by trying to tickle her. "C'mon, you know you want to!" she cried as the two of them descended into a tickle battle that would leave both panting, but also feeling much closer than they had felt in months.

* * *

 **Sunday, July 11, 1995. Early Evening.**

Lindsey Granger tried to stifle a yawn as he picked up the last piece of their checked luggage. _I can't believe how much we packed to go to a place known for nude beaches_ , he lamented — and not for the first time that day. Since neither Heathrow nor Gatwick offered direct flights to La Mole, the airport that served St. Tropez, they'd been travelling all day for what would have ideally been a mere two or three hour flight.

And they weren't done yet, because they still had to pick up a car and drive nearly half an hour to their hotel over in St. Tropez, where he suspected he'd immediately drop off to sleep. _Emma and Hermione don't look any better_ , he thought as he gazed at the two women in his life. They'd been on the move just as long that day as he had, and he hadn't missed how stressed Hermione had been looking recently.

Lindsey was still yawning as he walked up to his family with the last of the luggage, causing both of them to yawn as well. "Prat!" Emma said with a mock scowl as she elbowed him in the ribs.

Lindsey grinned. "Sorry," he replied, not looking the least bit apologetic. "Let's go rent a car so we can get to the hotel and crash for the night."

As they exited the baggage claim area, Lindsey was stopped short by two surprising sights. The first was the tallest, fittest, most beautiful blonde woman he'd ever seen. Well, she was for all of two seconds until he noticed the two taller, fitter, and even more beautiful blondes standing on either side of her. The first looked to be around six feet tall, but the other two were nearly half a head taller and a couple of stone heavier — and both of them had very stern, even dangerous, expressions on their faces.

The second surprise was the fact that the first blonde was holding a sign in front of her that said "Granger."

Before he could say anything more articulate than "wha—?" his daughter had already run forward, shouting, "Phoebe! Areto!" As she hugged the two taller women, who for some reason kept bringing to mind the term "Amazons," he couldn't help but notice just how much they dwarfed his little girl. For a moment he was afraid that they might crush her, and he was well familiar with the crushing hugs his wife and daughter were wont to give.

"Monsieur et Madame Granger?" the first blonde asked as she stepped up to them. "I am Victoire, and I 'ave been sent to fetch you to your 'otel."

Lindsey gulped and shook his head to get focused. The woman's beauty was astounding, there was no doubt about that; but he had things to do. "Thank you, but, uh, we were going to rent a car to get to St. Tropez and use it to drive around while we're here."

"Zere eez no need," she responded with a warm smile that seemed to make his head go fuzzy for a moment. "We 'ave been put at your disposal for as long as you are 'ere."

"And who are you, exactly?" Emma asked suspiciously.

"These are the friends that I told you about," Hermione said as she came up with the other two. Lindsey noticed that their eyes were constantly moving, taking in everything and everyone around them. "This is Phoebe and Areto — they were helping train Fleur and Gabrielle while they were in Scotland. And..." she turned to the first blonde of the group, "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met yet?"

"I am Victoire Delacour," she said as she shook his daughter's hand. "I am so delighted to finally meet you, Mademoiselle Granger. I am ze cousin of Fleur and Gabrielle, and I visited zem at Hogwarts in May," she explained, giving Hermione a look he couldn't quite decipher, "but I never got ze chance to introduce myself. Zat eez part of why I volunteered for zis."

"Well, let's go," Hermione said as she picked up her bags. "Phoebe said that Fleur and Gabrielle are waiting for us!" She then trotted out towards the parking area without bothering to wait for her parents, though the woman he thought was Phoebe strode right behind her. Not having any good reason to say no, and more comfortable now that he saw how accepting his daughter was of these people, Lindsey looked at his wife and shrugged before picking up the other bags. Emma frowned slightly, but followed along.

When he and his wife exited the airport, he was confronted with his third surprise of the evening: his daughter standing next to a large stretch limousine while being embraced simultaneously by two more blondes — also incredibly gorgeous and tall, though not as tall as the three who had been inside waiting. "Is this France or Sweden?" he heard his wife mutter. Lindsey snorted; he'd actually been wondering the same thing, but hadn't dared say it out loud.

* * *

 **Sunday, July 11, 1995. Night.**

Sirius desperately wanted a drink, but he had to admit that it might not be a good idea to be under the influence when having this conversation. It was something that had been coming for a while, ever since he read Hermione and Jasmine's description of all the odd things that had happened in his goddaughter's life and saw several questions about the behavior of one Remus J. Lupin.

Several serious and disturbing questions, in fact.

After getting Hermione's letter the day before, though, he couldn't put it off any longer. _I'm honestly not all that surprised that Dumbledore would try to restrict Jasmine's contact with the magical world_ , he thought. _There are dangers that she needs to be protected from. Banning all contact, though, is going a bit far — and Moony's decision to stun Hermione in the middle of a muggle neighborhood... that went well over the line. The old man and I are going to have words about what he's doing to my goddaughter, but first I need to focus on Moony._

There were several ways he could approach this conversation, but he was going to go with a course that would be sure to put his old friend off-balance: act mature about it. Actually, that had been his mother's idea, and while he could see the value in it, he suspected she only suggested it because she wanted him to get the practice.

The decision to act mature did not, however, prevent him from building up some anger while waiting for his friend, and when Moony finally did arrive, Sirius was in a right state. _Good thing that none of the other members of the Order of the Phoenix are staying here tonight. I just need to avoid yelling and throwing curses_ , he thought to himself, _because he won't take me as seriously if I look like I'm throwing a tantrum._

 _Woah — when did I start sounding like my mother?_

Shaking his head elicited a questioning look from Moony as his friend sat down and poured himself a drink. Sirius already had something non-alcoholic and was struggling to resist the urge to replace it with some of the firewhiskey Moony just poured. Deciding to use that agitation to good effect, he waited until his friend was in the middle of drinking before asking in as casual a manner as possible, "So, curse any teen girls in the back lately?"

His question had the intended result, which was Remus spitting a mouthful of firewhiskey across the table and choking for the next minute on what had gone down. _Serves him right_ , Sirius thought with a private smirk. _And if I can't drink any of that, why should he get to enjoy it?_

"Where did you...?" Remus coughed out. Sirius was pleased to see that he looked embarrassed, but that didn't mean he was going to go easy on his old friend. Not yet, at least.

"Oh, I've got my sources," Sirius answered cryptically. "Just because I'm a prisoner in my own home like Jasmine is doesn't mean that **I've** been completely isolated from the rest of the world. **I** , at least, am still allowed contact with others." Putting as much scorn into his voice as he could muster, he continued, "I suppose you're proud of yourself for what you did? Taking down a teen girl like that really shows off your big bad dueling skills — I'll bet all the other werewolves are envious of how macho you are now."

"Sweet Merlin," Remus said hoarsely. "Of course I'm not proud of myself. I felt ashamed as soon as I did it... no, even before, because of some of the things Miss Granger said to me. And it got worse when she woke up and started in on me again."

"Didn't stop you from doing it, though, did it?" Sirius pointed out. "You made a choice, and from where I'm sitting it was a really bad one."

"Yeah," Remus said morosely as he took a large swig of firewhiskey. "I've been thinking the same thing."

"If I'm not mistaken," Sirius went on, "they were already losing trust in you once they noticed how you basically ignored Jasmine's existence until you showed up at Hogwarts. Do you think you have any chance of them trusting you now that you've stunned Hermione when her back was turned? How do you think they'll treat you the next time they see you?"

Remus sighed deeply and poured himself another glass — a bigger one this time. "You think I don't know that?"

"So why did you do it in the first place?" Sirius demanded, struggling to not smack his long-time friend in the head for being such an idiot. He certainly would have back in Hogwarts, and Remus had done it to him on more than one occasion; but he was working to control those impulses and behave more like an adult. His mother was convinced that it would make it easier to get custody of Jasmine later, and he couldn't refute her reasoning.

"I didn't know what else to do!" Remus protested, bringing Sirius back to the moment. "Dumbledore said that she wasn't to have contact with anyone from the wizarding world. He visited Miss Granger personally and told her not to contact Miss Potter — I know, I was there with Tonks. Then she comes walking down Privet Drive like she lived there herself. What was I supposed to do? I felt that I had to follow the Headmaster's instructions. She wasn't going to leave voluntarily and threatened to scream if I used physical force, so that left nothing but magic."

"Or you could have just let her go," Sirius pointed out. When Remus started to object, Sirius simply talked over him, saying, "You can't expect me to believe you think a blanket 'no contact' policy is justified or even healthy. I'm all for security procedures, but they should be restrictions that actually take her wishes into account, not high-handed decisions by people who have no authority over her. It's her life, and she's more than old enough to have some voice in what happens to her. For Merlin's sake, Moony, she's about to turn fifteen, not five!"

Remus looked thoroughly chastened, but Sirius wasn't quite done. "And while I know you feel like you owe Dumbledore, the fact of the matter is that he's not perfect. He makes mistakes. At the very least, he hasn't been fifteen since the turn of the century, and even then he was never a teen girl (his fashion choices notwithstanding). You can't simply assume that any and every decision he makes about Jasmine is right — and that's when we're talking about decisions he actually has the authority to make in the first place. You do know that neither he nor you has any right to order the girls around during the summer?"

Remus grimaced. "Yes, Miss Granger did point that out to me. She also threatened me with the DMLE." When Sirius raised an eyebrow at that, Remus added, "She didn't have to mention that as a werewolf, I'm especially vulnerable if any legal complaints are made against me. I, more than almost anyone else, need to keep my nose clean. Following the headmaster's orders had me breaking the law." Remus downed a large gulp at that.

"And do you think he'd expend political capital in order to save you, should you find yourself in a DMLE holding cell?" Sirius asked as he took a sip of his own drink.

"At one time, maybe," Remus said slowly. "But now... I don't know anymore. Reading between the lines of some of the recent stories in the _Daily Prophet_ , I don't like the message the Ministry seems to be sending, and I'm worried about what it might mean in the future."

Sirius nodded. "I had thought that Jasmine's handling of the Minister would prevent something like this, but it looks like it didn't work."

"No, my impression is that it did work, but she laid into him at the end of the third task something fierce. I think that undid whatever good will she might have had with him."

Sirius smirked and said, "She can be a real spitfire. And Hermione isn't much different."

"Oh, Merlin," Remus groaned as he took another swig of his firewhiskey. "I was sure she was going to attack me before I apparated out of her house."

"Did you or did you not run with your tail between your legs?" Sirius needled him. He could tell that he had successfully gotten Remus to rethink his priorities. That was enough for one night and justified adopting a friendlier tone now.

Remus rolled his eyes. "I didn't want to get into a fight with a teen girl under any circumstances. But I will admit that she got a bit scary there at the end." Remus paused, obviously considering something, then added, "I know you won't believe me (and I have trouble believing it myself), but at the end, just before I apparated out, I'm sure that I saw her eyes glowing."

"Glowing?" Sirius asked in disbelief.

Remus nodded. "Yes, glowing. I've never seen that, though I have read that it can occur with very powerful wizards or witches. If I'm right and that's what was happening, she was building up an **awful** lot of power. She could have seriously hurt me, had she cast a harmful spell."

Sirius chose not to mention that Hermione did, in fact, know a number of incredibly harmful spells that she could have used against Moony — and that Sirius himself was responsible for her having learned some of them in the first place. Remus was already rethinking his choices and didn't need to be told how much danger his choices might have put him in. _Merlin_ , Sirius thought, _Jasmine wrote that Hermione loves the siege engine spell, and if she'd forgotten herself and cast that... Moony would have been turned into a puddle of goo._

* * *

 **Monday, July 12, 1995. Morning.**

Jasmine sighed as she slipped on her least-tattered pair of trainers. It had been over a week since summer break had started, and except for one brief telephone call from Hermione, she hadn't heard from anyone. She had learned from the call that Hedwig's messages had been lost, but she'd expected that by now Hermione would have managed something — if not owl post, then regular muggle post or even a personal visit.

 _Or just another phone call,_ Jasmine thought dejectedly _._ Their one and only conversation had been cut short, presumably because of how Jasmine had started teasing her girlfriend about getting hot and sweaty then taking long, lingering showers together. It had been said in good fun (and of course because Jasmine was getting both lonely and frustrated over Hermione's absence), but the lack of any follow-up calls made her worry. _I didn't make her mad, did I? She did hang up awfully fast, and she promised to call the next day. Maybe I should have thought to get her phone number before leaving the train, but I figured the Dursleys wouldn't allow me to use the phone._

Shaking her head, the auburn-haired witch decided to put that out of her mind for now. She knew that Hermione needed time with her parents and that that might be the cause of Hermione's silence, not any anger at Jasmine. She walked outside and did a few stretches before taking off down the street in a fast jog. _At least something came out of our one phone call_ , she thought. _Other than homework and a very few chores, I'd have nothing else to do if Hermione hadn't given me the idea of running for exercise and endurance._

* * *

"Sending out a postcard already, pumpkin?" Lindsey asked when he walked up behind his daughter and saw her writing at the table in their suite's living area. "We only just arrived last night, you know."

"I know, Dad," Hermione responded tiredly, "but this is for Jasmine. I need her to know that I haven't forgotten about her."

Lindsey frowned. "I hardly think she'd believe that, would she?" He turned to look at his wife when he heard her exit their bedroom, and she was frowning too.

"I don't know — I hope not," Hermione said with a sigh. "But I promised to call her back on Wednesday — **last** Wednesday — and since then I haven't been able to contact her at all. She has no idea how many times and ways I've tried or that I keep getting blocked. So she won't know **what** to think. She won't know what I'm doing. I just... I..."

"It'll be alright, sweetie," Emma said as she knelt down and pulled her daughter into a hug. "She's your friend, and she won't instantly think the worst of you." When an unexpected knock came at the door, Lindsey started to move in that direction, but one of the tall blondes who occupied the second of the suite's three bedrooms got there first and opened it, revealing Victoire standing in the hall.

"Good morning," she said brightly as she entered. "Did you all sleep well?"

"Wonderfully," Lindsey said, thinking back to how unexpectedly awake he had felt last night when they checked in. Awake... and frisky. Fortunately, Emma hadn't minded. "I want to thank you again for getting the hotel to upgrade us to this suite. I'm sure the regular room we booked would have been fine, but this..."

"It eez quite alright," Victoire said with a wave of her hand. "As I explained last night, zis suite allows us to put two bodyguards with you, so it eez for our benefit as well."

"We appreciate that, too," Lindsey said. "It never occurred to us that the dangers back home might follow us so quickly."

"Zey probably will not," Victoire said as she shrugged, "But better safe zan sorry, no? Hermione eez a dear friend of my cousins, and my family just wants to 'elp 'owever zey can." She then leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "And if nothing 'appens, Areto and Phoebe get to spend some days being lazy on ze beach!"

"Holà!" Phoebe complained. "We are not being lazy."

Victoire grinned. "If you say so." Almost immediately she turned serious and asked the taller woman, whom Lindsey learned last night was a witch and a veela, like the others, "Were zere any problems last night?" When Phoebe shook her head, Victoire added, "Not even, you know?" Lindsey noticed that the shorter of the two gave a significant look in his direction.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

Victoire suddenly looked very embarrassed and seemed to grope for the right words. Eventually, Areto, who had been standing by the windows, said, "We told you last night zat we are veela. What we did not mention is zat veela 'ave something called an 'allure,' which is a magical attraction zat works on anyone who is already attracted to women. We can never shut it down entirely, zough with practice we can reduce it a great deal — enough zat most wizards will not notice, but muggles..."

"Oh?" Lindsey asked, wondering where this was going. Emma was also paying attention now, while Hermione finished with her postcard.

"Even zough ze zree of us are concentrating on 'olding it in," Phoebe said, "it's a bit of a surprise zat you aren't affected in zis enclosed space. Nor were you affected all night last night."

"Or in ze car, despite 'aving five veela around you," Victoire added. "It would maybe not be so surprising for you to not be affected by one of us, but so many? Zat eez impressive."

"Why would he be able to do that?" Emma asked, her curiosity piqued.

Victoire shrugged. "Zere are zeveral factors zat can come into play. He eez not magical, zo occlumency eez excluded. I suspect zat it eez a combination of a strong mind and his love for you, Madame Granger. Zey allow him to resist."

Emma smiled fondly at her husband while Lindsey looked thoughtful. "Now that you mention it," he said, "I have felt... I don't know, like my head was going swimmy or something now and then. I thought I was just distracted by, well," he gestured at the veela, "having several extremely beautiful women right in front of me. When I noticed it, though, I concentrated and shook it off."

Victoire nodded. "You may find it easier ze more practice you 'ave."

"He'll certainly get a lot of practice today," Areto said with a grin.

Lindsey, who had been feeling a bit smug for being able to resist the allure of magically attractive supermodels, froze when he realized that today was going to be his first day ever at a nude beach... surrounded by magically attractive supermodels. **Naked** magically attractive supermodels.

Emma gave him a poke as she passed by on her way back to their bedroom. "Keep your eyes to yourself, buster," she murmured.

* * *

Neville stroked the feathers of Rollo, the strongest and fastest of the Longbottom owls. "Now remember," Neville said softly, "this is a very important letter, but it's not more important than your life. I know for a fact that there's something interfering with Jasmine's owl mail, but I don't know what it is. One owl has already been hurt, and I don't want you to get hurt, too."

Rollo hooted gravely at him.

"If anyone tries to stop you or take the letter, don't put up too much of a fight." Neville added with a smirk, "There's an extra message in there for whoever tries to steal it, so I won't get too upset, and I certainly won't blame you. Just do your best and be sure to come back, OK?"

The owl stood a bit taller at the trust he was being shown.

"OK, then, off you go!" Once he was released, Rollo beat his wings hard and took to the sky, headed south in the direction of Jasmine Potter.

"Good luck," Neville whispered.

* * *

 **Monday, July 12, 1995. Late Morning.**

Lindsey Granger lay back uneasily, trying hard not to look around any more than was necessary and annoyed that his wife seemed to be so much more relaxed than he was. This wasn't quite working out the way he had envisioned.

The two of them had decided on St. Tropez for several interconnected reasons. As they had explained to Hermione, they wanted a place that would help them reconnect as a family. Beyond that, however, was the fact that their daughter wasn't the only one who had been changing. He and Emma had been slowly moving away from conservative, traditional beliefs ever since they had discovered their little girl was a witch. A nude beach would have seemed quite scandalous five years ago; today, given their personal desire for something different and adventurous, it felt like a reasonable next step.

Oh, he knew Emma was a bit nervous about it, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. More importantly, Hermione hadn't appeared to judge them for a choice that probably seemed rather extreme to her, and it gave them hope that their plan might work out after all.

Unfortunately, the reality of their situation wasn't quite measuring up to the theory. Hermione was incredibly distracted and upset about Jasmine, making it difficult to have productive conversations with her. The situation made him not only concerned, but also curious about why his daughter was taking it so hard. He understood the importance of friends — especially first and best friends — but Hermione seemed to be a lot more upset than he thought was warranted.

She only seemed to grow calm and relaxed when close to her two young veela friends, and while he didn't mind having the veela around in general — especially since they were generously providing security — their presence at the beaches had been preventing **him** from relaxing at all. He had originally thought that being surrounded by nude women all day would just be icing on the cake, and perhaps inspire a bit more fun between him and his wife during their nights.

 _I guess the old saying about being careful what you wish for is right,_ he lamented. _Even if they didn't have magical pheromones or whatever it is_ , _I still wouldn't be able to relax. I feel more relaxed when performing root canals! And do they have to... practically drape themselves over each other? Even seeing that out of the corner of my eye is... distracting. Ugh! Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day! Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day! Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day..._

"So gorgeous!" Emma exclaimed.

Lindsey jumped. "I wasn't looking at... I mean, what?" he said, blinking at her.

"The beach," she clarified. "Isn't it gorgeous?"

"Oh — yes," he answered, clearing his throat. "Indeed."

Emma eyed him up and down for a moment before asking, "Are you quite alright, dear? You seem a bit uptight. You're supposed to relax, not lie there all stiff and rigid."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that, dear?" Emma asked.

"Nothing," he said a little bitterly, not seeing the mirth in her eyes behind her sunglasses.

* * *

 **Monday, July 12, 1995. Night.**

Susan Bones yawned deeply as she got into bed. She and Hannah had been working at the Ministry for a week now, putting in long days researching how the Death Eaters had operated during the war and discussing ways to counter their most common tactics. It was harder than anything they did at school, in large part because the information was so disturbing — more than once she'd come home and cried herself to sleep, haunted by the dreadful things she'd read about during the day.

At the same time, it was also more rewarding, because she felt she was learning important things which might be useful in helping others survive. Neither she nor Hannah had fooled themselves into thinking that they'd create revolutionary new tactics, but they were optimistic that they might catch a few things that earlier DMLE employees hadn't. Even just one good idea might save lives, and that's what kept the two of them going: the hope that they could prevent even one of the horrors they were reading about from happening again.

Especially to their friends.


	4. One Step Closer to the Edge

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Muggle Summer, Wizard's Fall" by canoncansodoff. Shortly after Dumbledore's funeral, Harry begins a quest to harness "the power he knows not"... and it may turn out to be the muggle monarchy. Quite a few fics explore how the possible relationship between the monarchy and wizarding Britain might work, but this is one of the more fun and entertaining ones. Incomplete, unfortunately. H/Hr.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 04 - One Step Closer to the Edge**

 **Tuesday, July 13, 1995.**

Jasmine Potter sighed and slammed her Transfiguration text shut, fed up with her complete inability to concentrate for very long on her summer homework. She'd get a little work done, then she'd think about Hermione having fun with her parents, the professors relaxing in the castle, other families enjoying themselves on vacations... and it was all she could do not to start screaming and breaking the furniture.

As she fumed, she stared at the wall in front of her and unconsciously started counting the dents which Dudley had once made with some toy back when it was still his second bedroom. _One hundred forty-three_ , she thought. _There were one hundred forty-three last summer, one hundred forty-three the summer before, and there will be one hundred forty-three next summer, too._

 _Unless I start putting some dents in the wall myself..._

She looked around her room, bare of anything personal which would signal that someone actually lived there, and questioned whether the blood wards were really worth it. Giving up on homework as a lost cause for now, she prepared herself for her regular morning run and wondered why no one, especially Hermione, had written to her yet. _Now I wish more than ever that I had asked her for her phone number_ , Jasmine thought. She had spent a few hours in the library yesterday trying to look it up in the phone books she thought were correct, but without any luck. _It never occurred to me that their number might not be listed._

Being cooped up with the Dursleys was annoying even on the best of days, despite the fact that Vernon was continuing to keep his distance. The lack of any sort of contact from anyone was getting to be infuriating. Unfortunately, she had no one she could take any of her anger out on. If Vernon were to revert to form, she would probably have trouble holding back. Indeed, even one of his beady-eyed glares might have set her off by now if she didn't have running as an outlet — something she now did twice a day despite the oppressive heat, simply because she needed some sort of physical release.

 _I've got to get out of this place_ , she thought to herself as she headed outside once again.

* * *

Sitting on a beach in France, Hermione listened to Fleur and Gabrielle talk about some of the things they had been doing since they had left Hogwarts. Unfortunately she was having difficulty focusing on their words. Their presence calmed her and made her less agitated for some strange reason, but it didn't solve her primary problem, which was being separated from Jasmine.

* * *

 **Wednesday, July 14, 1995.**

Neville Longbottom almost never whistled, but he did it on the way to the owlery to send a letter to Ginny Weasley — his third since coming back home, in fact, in a summer that was already turning out to be unusually busy. Typically he spent the summer hols first doing his homework, then spending as much time as he could in the family greenhouse, but this summer he found himself consumed by a serious research project in his family's library. Yet he found it easy to make time for Ginny's unexpected letters, and that surprised him.

He thought back to before the Yule Ball and Jasmine's comment that Ginny might be interested in him. He had dismissed it at the time, especially when she and Dean had hit it off so well, but in her first letter she told him that she and Dean had broken up. He still didn't understand witches very well, despite how deeply embroiled he'd more than once become in Jasmine and Hermione's personal dramas, but he strongly suspected that that bit of news had some hidden message behind it.

And if he was right, he wasn't at all averse to what he thought that message might be.

He wasn't going to make any assumptions, though. He was going to take it slow, express some interest subtly, and see what happened.

Just as he finished giving the letter to Ivar, the owl he'd been using to communicate with Ginny, Rollo half crashed into the owlery. Quickly sending Ivar on his way, Neville gently picked Rollo up and examined him, finding numerous missing and broken feathers.

And no letter, either his original or a response from Jasmine.

"I thought I told you not to put up much of a fight," he scolded the bird. Rollo just fixed him with an imperious stare, as if daring him to try to tell an owl its business.

Neville sighed and, cradling Rollo gently, went to talk to his gran. The relationship between the two of them was still a bit strained over his getting a new wand and no longer using his father's, but she couldn't argue with the dramatic rise in his grades, nor with his improved confidence and attitude. It was just going to take her some time to finally accept that she couldn't turn him into his father — that he was his own wizard who would do great things in his own way.

Right after he left, a snowy owl arrived in the Longbottom owlery and settled in.

* * *

 **Thursday, July 15, 1995.**

Hermione Granger bit her bottom lip in irritation as she finished her daily postcard to Jasmine. She had wanted to up the number to two or three per day, but her parents had jointly put their foot down at that, insisting that one was more than enough if she was getting them while more would be a waste if she wasn't. It never occurred to them that writing the postcards was as much for Hermione's sanity as anything else.

Because bit by bit, Hermione felt like she was going mad. She ran out of patience very quickly, even with her parents. When she got angry, she felt like a volcano that was ready to blow. It was difficult for her to concentrate on anything for very long, which made her glad that she'd completed her summer homework before leaving on holiday. She wasn't sleeping well, so there were dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was an unruly mess.

She didn't miss the worried looks her parents kept giving her, but there was nothing she could do about it. It was fortunate for all concerned that the veela remained so close — all of them helped calm her, especially Fleur and Gabrielle, even if the effect was limited. Only then did she not feel anger scratching at her insides or the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes.

 _I still haven't figured out why their presence makes me feel that way_ , Hermione thought, _but right now I don't care — I'll take any comfort I can get. I just don't know how I'll cope once we go home._

* * *

Jasmine lay back on her bed and wondered what Hermione was doing today. _Surely whatever she's doing, she's got to be having loads more fun than I am_ , she lamented.

* * *

 **Friday, July 16, 1995.**

Apolline Delacour cursed under her breath as she helped yet another injured owl. "This is the fourth one," she fumed to Adrienne, who happened to be there visiting. "We've sent two from Fleur and two from Gabrielle, both from here and from Paris. All have come back injured and without letters."

"And muggle post?" Adrienne asked.

"We've sent a couple of letters that way as well," Apolline answered, "but there's been no response. I am not optimistic. Hermione gave us the phone number for Jasmine, and I've asked our people in several different cities to try calling, but all get the same result that Hermione did: loud static."

Adrienne sighed. "I'll ask others for suggestions, but short of going there in person, I'm not sure what else to do."

"I know," Apolline agreed, "and except as a last resort, we dare not go in person because we don't have a strong enough political or economic presence in Britain to protect us if anything goes wrong."

"If we had an agreement with the goblins, we could probably use them," Adrienne said, "but even as fast as the negotiations with them are progressing, I wouldn't expect anything to be finalized until early next month."

Apolline nodded. "I strongly suspect that Hermione will try going there again, and this time I expect that she will be more prepared for a confrontation."

"That would be unfortunate," Adrienne replied, "but I wouldn't want to be the one to try to dissuade her. Those two should not spend too long apart while the bond is still developing. It will eventually become dangerous for them."

"Perhaps we should set a deadline?" Apolline suggested. "A date after which we will resort to riskier measures, like going in person?"

Adrienne considered that, then said, "That's a reasonable idea. I will bring it up with the others, and recommend that if we do it, we wait until at least August 1st. A month of separation will be unpleasant for them, but not yet dangerous. Much more than a month, though, would not be advisable."

"What have your Amazzi said about the Grangers, by the way?" Apolline asked, changing the subject. "Fleur and Gabrielle are impressed by them."

"So are Areto and Phoebe," Adrienne answered. "Mr. Granger is able to resist the effects of the allure, though apparently it makes him... what is the English word? 'Frisky' is how Phoebe described it, judging by the sounds from their bedroom."

Apolline smiled. "I was told that Mr. Granger is very amusing when trying to avoid showing any obvious reaction to the veela who surround him, especially on the beaches.

Adrienne laughed and said, "Yes, I'd heard that, too. The poor man... and he still has more than a week to go!"

* * *

Hermione gave hugs to both Phoebe and Areto and congratulated them on their good news. She hadn't had any idea at the time that they were hoping to get pregnant at the Beltane ritual, and she was thrilled to learn that they had both succeeded. Of course, the fact that the celebration had lasted three days, giving them time for lots and lots of attempts, probably helped.

All too soon, however, her happiness at the news subsided, and she returned to her funk over being separated from Jasmine.

* * *

 **Saturday, July 17, 1995.**

Vernon Dursley seethed as he drank his lager and watched the day's sports highlights. It had been two weeks since he'd brought the freak home from that freak school, and so far all she'd done was defy him. She was living under his roof and eating his food, but she refused to pull her weight by helping around the house like he'd always forced her to do from the time she could walk.

 _The nerve of her_ , he raged inwardly, _expecting a normal boy like Dudders to do the sort of work that someone like her should be doing! No surprise, I guess, since her freak parents were good-for-nothing layabouts as well, but I thought we'd taught her better than that._

Taking another drink, he thought about how he'd originally intended to stamp the freakishness out of her, but Petunia had prevented him from getting too physical with a little girl. _Always too soft, my Petunia is_ , he mused. _Too much heart in her to do what's necessary sometimes. That's part of why I married her, that big heart of hers, but I should have overruled her back then. If I had, then maybe we wouldn't be dealing with the girl's unnatural defiance today._

He had been outraged that she'd presumed to threaten him with her freakish abilities, but the more he thought about it, the less cowed he felt.

He finished the beer he was working on and called Petunia for another. Sooner or later, he'd do what was necessary. As the man of the house, that was his job, wasn't it?

* * *

Jasmine remained up in her room all day; as soon as she saw Vernon starting to drink in the late morning, she decided that it would be safest if she stayed out of his sight.

She had a bit of saved food hidden in her room and hoped that it would suffice. As angry as she had been feeling lately, another shouting match between the two of them would lead to one or the other getting hurt.

* * *

 **Sunday, July 18, 1995.**

Draco Malfoy hugged himself as he sat hunched on the edge of his bed. His homecoming had not been what he'd expected — not at all. Neither of his parents had showed up to greet him at the train station; instead he'd been met by a stranger who grabbed his shoulder and forced him into a gut-wrenching side-along apparition. Once home, he'd found his parents to be physical wrecks: his father horribly scarred by burns, and his mother hobbling around, unable to use all of her muscles properly because of repeated exposure to the _Cruciatus_ curse.

Then it was his turn.

Draco had grown up with stories about how great and powerful the Dark Lord had been. He had been taught that the Dark Lord would reward his most devoted and faithful followers. Draco had endeavored to live his life in such a way that would make both his parents and the Dark Lord proud of him.

Instead, what he got was tortured nearly every day for his failure to provide adequate help in kidnapping Potter. Because of his injuries at school, it had been necessary for plans to be changed at the last minute, and the Dark Lord had become convinced that this had played a role in the problems at the dark ritual where he regained his body.

 _Everything is Potter's fault_ , Draco concluded bitterly. _Potter burned my father. Potter made the Dark Lord mad enough to torture my mother. Potter messed things up at the ritual. Potter caused me to be injured, leading to me being tortured now. If I could just avenge myself and my family on Potter, then I would prove how devoted and faithful I am. Then everything would be better — I just know it._

* * *

 **Monday, July 19, 1995.**

Sirius Black sat in the warded portrait room and listened to what the different portraits had to report. It still amazed him that he was actively working with so many bigots and blood purists whom he'd once hated. He still didn't like them, but as portraits they also couldn't do any real harm, so as long as they kept their opinions on blood purity to themselves, he found that working with them wasn't horrible.

Bizarre and confusing, perhaps, but not horrible.

So far, nothing of consequence had happened in the house with the Order, at least insofar as any of the Black family portraits had been able to tell. It was early days, though, and Dumbledore was still focused on recruiting reliable people. Unfortunately, until Voldemort made some sort of move, it would be difficult to convince anyone that he was back.

Only those who had a great deal of personal loyalty towards and trust in the Headmaster even considered his words — which Sirius found ironic, because he knew Dumbledore was right yet also he had very little trust in him anymore. He couldn't express that distrust directly, but it was becoming obvious as the arguments between them grew increasingly heated. He wanted his goddaughter here in Grimmauld Place while Dumbledore kept stalling, saying that she needed to be at Privet Drive, where it was safe.

 _Merlin_ , Sirius thought, _even my mother is getting impatient with him. She hasn't chastised me at all for the last couple of shouting matches I've had with the old man, and that's saying something. To be fair, though, she has seemed rather distracted. Ever since she listened in on that conversation I had with Moony, she's been asking more and more questions about how Jasmine and Hermione behave around each other, about how strong their spells are, and then sits and thinks for long stretches of time._

 _Huh_ — _maybe it's something I should be paying more attention to myself?_

Shaking his head, he turned back to the discussion, which ended up being about another failure to learn anything new about possible horcruxes. Thus far, the only real information they'd gotten was from Phineas' observations of the Headmaster while dealing with the diary, and even that wasn't much because he'd said little out loud at the time. _We need a new strategy or some new insight, otherwise we'll get nowhere_ , Sirius concluded. _But first, I should come up with a way to convince my mother that it's worth the risk for me to go get Jasmine personally. I had hoped she'd be here after two or three weeks, but the way Dumbledore has blocked off all communication, I'm not sure he'll let her come here at all._

* * *

Jasmine winced as she rubbed the place on her upper arm where Vernon had grabbed her and tried to shake her. She'd been expecting him to try something sooner or later, maybe even something physical. Physical abuse had been infrequent in the Dursley household — at least in her opinion — but it did happen occasionally, especially when Vernon got exceptionally frustrated and upset.

And that was exactly what had been happening recently, ever since she had refused to be victimized by him anymore. All his anger and resentment had apparently been building up, and he'd intended to vent it that evening when he grabbed her hard with one hand and drew back his other to hit her, a movement which gave her immediate flashbacks to her experiences in the graveyard.

Vernon would have connected, too, if he hadn't let go and jumped away from her, yelping as if he'd been burned. There was a lot more fear in his eyes than usual as he held his hand and backed away. _What exactly was that_ , she wondered, _and how did I do it?_ She kept looking out the window for any signs of an owl from the Ministry, but after an hour, she concluded that she wasn't going to get anything.

 _I guess it qualifies as accidental magic_ , _unless..._ She was brought up short as the thought came to her: _Is it because I didn't use a wand? Does that mean wandless magic isn't detectable by the Ministry? The only way to test it would be to perform deliberate wandless magic, though._ She shook her head — way too risky. _If what I did to Vernon only escaped notice because it was accidental, then the Ministry will send me a letter. I don't think Fudge will be as accommodating this time..._

* * *

 **Tuesday, July 20, 1995.**

Severus Snape stirred his potion and carefully added the diced acromantula liver — and hadn't it gotten expensive lately! He'd have to see about getting a new supplier, assuming he could ever find the time.

And he had rather more pressing concerns these days. As a spy he needed to be able to feed enough information to both sides to keep everyone happy and allay any suspicion against himself. Right now, though, both sides were so inactive that there was hardly anything of consequence to report — yet both sides doubted him when he reported this and insisted that he work harder to get usable intelligence.

He'd have laughed at the irony of peace and quiet being so dangerous if it weren't for the fact that he was the one in the most immediate danger.

 _If this continues_ , he thought as he made some notes and left the potion to simmer, _the temptation to simply make things up may become too great, and that will only cause problems for me in the long run. Sooner or later, one of them will have to make the first move and_ _ **do**_ _something. Anything. Hmm..._ he considered, _now there's an idea. Maybe I can encourage one of them to take action, then I'll start having things to report. But what?_

Snape sighed and ran his hand across his face, wishing for what seemed like the millionth time that there was some way for him to escape it all.

* * *

 **Wednesday, July 21, 1995.**

Albus Dumbledore looked over various reports from the people he'd convinced to join the Order of the Phoenix and sighed in frustration. Aside from a few instances of possible recruitment into the ranks of the Death Eaters, there hadn't been a single incident all month that could definitely be attributed to Tom. Normally that was something he'd be happy about, but the silence from the Death Eaters and their master was maddening: not only did he not have any idea where Tom was aiming his plans, but the lack of movement was making it harder to convince people that they were in danger.

 _It's utterly bizarre to be lamenting a state of peace and quiet_ , he considered, _but there you go._

Almost as maddening was the situation with Jasmine Potter. His magic and agents had intercepted a couple of dozen letters from various friends and schoolmates, far more than usual. Sometimes the owls carrying the letters resisted, recognizing that his agents weren't actually Jasmine Potter despite the powerful magic he used to conceal her while disguising another. Several owls had been injured, unfortunately, but there was nothing he could do about it. She had to be protected, whatever the cost.

He was also going to have to do something about Sirius, who was growing increasingly incensed at the absence of his goddaughter. _Maybe some house guests would distract him?_ Dumbledore mused.

He frowned as he popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth, thinking back to what he'd read in the letter from Mr. Longbottom. _I had no idea that the boy even knew such language, much less was willing to use it!_

Shaking his head, he moved on to the next bit of depressing work: finding a Defense professor. _If I don't hire someone soon, the Ministry will be able to insert their own person here, and that would be a disaster._

* * *

 **Thursday, July 22, 1995.**

Dolores Umbridge smiled to herself as the last piece of the puzzle was put into place. She now had everything she needed to enact her plan to eliminate or discredit that Potter girl — either would do at this point. Ideally it would be Dumbledore that she'd go after, but he was too cagey and too well protected right now. Potter, though, was the next best thing, because Dumbledore was relying on her both for the scurrilous lies he was telling about Voldemort coming back and for future political support once he made his move against the legitimate Ministry officials.

Getting Potter out of the way might not completely thwart Dumbledore's planned coup against the Ministry, but it would delay his plans at the very least, possibly long enough for her other schemes to come to fruition. Given enough time, she was sure that even someone as experienced as Dumbledore could be taken care of. No one was immortal, after all.

With a flourish of her wand, all of the relevant documents were sealed in a box which was in turn sealed in a hidden drawer in her desk. _It wouldn't do for anyone to find any of that, now would it?_ _In a week, once the deed is done, I can destroy it all and none will be the wiser._

 _Next_ , she thought, _I need to take further steps towards undermining those investigations which Amelia is running. Once Cornelius is safe from the lies people are telling, it will be time to do something about Dumbledore._

* * *

Hermione was the happiest she'd been since she had arrived in France. It had nothing to do with the beach or even visiting with her French friends, but rather because she was shopping for a birthday gift for Jasmine. She had belatedly realized that Jasmine's birthday was fast approaching and she had nothing to give her, so she convinced her parents to let the French witches take her shopping in local muggle and magical areas in order to find the perfect gift.

Her parents went along, of course, and didn't miss the fact that all the time she spent focusing on doing something nice for Jasmine was time she wasn't agitated, frustrated, upset, or generally wallowing in the bad mood she'd been in for the past several weeks. They had no idea why, but they were thrilled to see their happy daughter again and made it a point to participate in her quest, simply to enjoy the time with her.

* * *

 **Friday, July 23, 1995.**

Ginny Weasley reread yet another letter from Neville and sighed in happiness — it looked like her efforts might finally be bearing fruit. He hadn't come right out to say that he was interested, but it seemed like he might be. _It's a shame that there's no one I can ask for advice_ , she thought. _Certainly not any of my brothers, and I really don't want Mum to get involved. That means that I need to figure this out for myself, and right now that means being direct._

Everyone was packing up for an extended stay at Grimmauld Place, where it was safer — not that anyone could explain what exactly the danger was — and she didn't know if she'd be able to send or receive owls regularly, so she decided to treat this as her last chance to say anything at all before the fall term started. _Gryffindors forward!_ she thought to herself as she took a huge chance and tried writing in relatively direct, clear language just what it was she was looking for from Neville.

In a corner of her mind, it occurred to her that her mother would be horrified at a young witch being so bold and forthright with a wizard — it was something "scarlet women" did. As much as the relationship between Jasmine and Hermione bothered her, though, it had at least taught her the value of directness and open communication.

* * *

Amelia Bones reread yet another directive from Fudge's office and slapped it down on her desk, thoroughly disgusted. Minister Fudge couldn't directly interfere with a criminal investigation, especially one that might bring some of his own decisions into question. He could, however, interfere with her department itself in a number of ways — ways that impacted **all** her investigations unless she prioritized some over others.

 _Whoever is writing these directives is creative, I'll give them that_ , she admitted reluctantly. Wanting a second opinion, she called in Moira O'Connor, Head of the Hit Wizards, and Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Department. Moira was a former Irish auror who'd had to fight a lot of prejudice against witches serving as Hit Wizards as she rose to the top of that department. Rufus was as much a politician as he was an auror, but he was also loyal, so Amelia never feared for her job around him.

When they arrived, she said, "I'm sure you've seen these directives already, but you probably read them at separate times. Right, I want you to read them all together and give your opinions."

Both of her most trusted advisors were silent for a while before Rufus looked up from his reading and said, "They don't sound like they threaten the integrity of DMLE investigations, especially on their own; but the budgetary revisions, personnel reassignments, and other changes all serve to render our actual ability to conduct investigations almost non-existent, except for one or two cases at a time."

Moira nodded in agreement. "I'd be willing to bet that any day now we'll be getting a major case from Cornelius Fudge or a political ally, something we cannot ignore — or that we'll be ordered not to ignore — and that will force us to put everything else on hold, including the investigations into what happened to Jasmine Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew."

"Those were my conclusions exactly," Amelia said. "And if Fudge wants to bury those investigations so badly, that's all the more reason to pursue them. Besides, I promised that girl that I'd do everything I could to see that justice was done." She paused to look back and forth at them. "I want the two of you to figure out how we can continue pursuing at least those two investigations under the constraints that are being imposed on us and without Fudge finding out. Even if it means people volunteering to work off the books, I do not want either case to start gathering dust. Am I understood?"

Both Moira and Rufus said they'd get right on it before leaving her alone to wonder what Fudge and his lackeys might try next.

* * *

 **Saturday, July 24, 1995.**

Voldemort slammed the latest book shut with a growl. He'd looked through every Dark Arts tome which the Malfoys had, and quite a few which he'd commanded his other servants to bring from their own private libraries. So far, though, he'd been unable to find a single scrap of information that would help him understand what had been happening to him — neither the pain, the nausea, or the weakened magic.

Just about the only good news was that he hadn't had to deal with the first two all month, which was the longest stretch of feeling healthy that he could remember since late last year. Still, there was no knowing how long it would last — he needed to find answers, otherwise he was sure that this would continue to plague him, threatening to make him look weak in front of his pureblood followers.

The other bit of good news was that someone had spotted the mudblood friend of Potter in Diagon Alley earlier in the month — and without any sort of guard, too. They'd lost her, which earned them a session under the _Cruciatus_ curse, but Voldemort had immediately set up a rotating watch on the alley to specifically look for her, Potter, and a few other high-value targets. He doubted that any would show, though: Dumbledore was too smart to let that happen. Nevertheless, there was no way to plan for lucky breaks, so he set the watch and was waiting to see what would come of it.

Voldemort then pulled out a book that was for his next research project: prophecies.

* * *

 **Sunday, July 25, 1995. Night.**

It was a very tired Granger family that finally walked back into their home after having been gone for two weeks. As relaxing as the trip had been overall — even for Lindsey, who had eventually learned how to comfortably lie on the beach without having to worry about his eyes wandering too much — travelling back home had been exhausting, and everyone just wanted to fall into bed and sleep.

Before going upstairs to unpack the bare necessities, Lindsey flipped through the collection of mail which a neighbor had been picking up while they were gone. It was pretty much what he'd expected... except for one thing. He debated not saying anything, then realized that if he didn't, he'd arguably be doing the same thing he and his wife had criticized their daughter for.

"Hermione," he called out.

"Yes, Dad?" she answered as she came out of the kitchen. Without a word, he handed over a stack of postcards — the same postcards she had diligently written to Jasmine every day while in France. Every single one had been marked "Addressee Unknown," and it was only because Hermione had thought to include their home address that they all had found their way to the Granger house.

His heart broke at the expression of distress on Hermione's face when she reached to take the stack of postcards from him. She didn't say anything, just pulled them to her chest and slowly walked upstairs to her room.

"Were those...?" Emma asked. She had come out of the kitchen, too, and was behind Hermione when she took the cards.

Lindsey nodded. "I didn't look closely since they weren't written to me, but it looked like not a single one made it through. There was also the letter she said she sent from here before we went away."

Emma sighed and said, "She looked devastated."

"For the moment," Lindsey agreed, "but if her recent mood swings continue, she'll switch over to angry soon enough."

"I guess we should be prepared for her to make another trip over there sooner or later," Emma said as she picked up some of the luggage.

"I'd bet on sooner," Lindsey responded as he grabbed the rest and followed his wife up to their bedroom.

* * *

 **Monday, July 26, 1995. Afternoon.**

Once again, phone calls to Jasmine failed to get through. Not content with just trying to call from home, Hermione walked all over the local village that morning, trying every pay phone she could find. Every time, the result was the same: loud static. So after lunch, she headed immediately for the train station and once again began the journey to where Jasmine lived.

 _I may not have Jasmine's flair for sneaking around_ , Hermione admitted to herself, _but I've learned a thing or two from being her friend over the past four years. Instead of charging in the front, I'll go around and sneak in the back. Lupin — or whoever's on guard — will never see me._

This time, rather than turning down Privet Drive, she kept right on walking and turned instead down the next street over. The numbering allowed her to guess how many houses she had to pass by. Then, after a quick look around, she trotted through someone's front yard, through their back yard, and finally climbed over their fence. _Thank Merlin no one was home,_ she thought as she stopped to catch her breath.

Crouching down so as not to be easily seen, she slowly scanned the area and saw that there was no one around — no wizards or witches watching her. Quietly she stood up and started moving towards the back door, still wondering what sort of excuse she could give for showing up there instead of the front.

Then everything went black.

* * *

 **Monday, July 26, 1995. Evening.**

When Hermione woke up, she once again found herself lying on the couch in her family's living room. Growling, she sat up and flicked her wrist to send her wand into her hand. As she looked around the room for her target, she saw her parents, both of whom had their hands in front of them, motioning for her to lower her wand.

"She's already gone," Lindsey said. "She brought you here, waited until we arrived, then said she'd be reporting this to Dumbledore and left."

"Who was it?" Hermione asked as she returned her wand to her wrist holster.

"She didn't identify herself," Emma said apologetically. "It didn't look like the Tonks woman who was here before, though."

Hermione jumped up off the couch and started pacing back and forth in the living room, trying to figure out what to do.

"Oh, and this arrived while you were asleep," Lindsey said, holding out a parchment envelope. "The owl didn't want to let us take the message, but we showed you to it and explained that we were your parents. It... seemed to understand, I guess, and let us take it."

Opening the envelope, she found that it was a letter from Neville. "This is from one of our friends at school. He says that he hasn't been able to get through to Jasmine either, and that he's keeping Hedwig safe for now."

Even angrier now, Hermione resumed her pacing while her parents simply looked at each other, wishing that they knew of a way to help.

* * *

 **Tuesday, July 27, 1995. Afternoon.**

Albus Dumbledore looked over the notes he had made during the report about Miss Granger's attempt to sneak in to #4 Privet Drive. Given the way she had tried to get in, she was lucky that she had only been stunned, and that the guard hadn't immediately assumed that she was a polyjuiced Death Eater who was there for nefarious purposes.

Eyeing the decanter across the room, he wondered briefly if it was too early in the day for a spot of firewhiskey, then sighed regretfully and returned to the problem of Hermione Granger. _In truth, I shouldn't be surprised that she tried something_ , he thought. _Of course she wouldn't give up after trying to send a couple of letters by owl. She's a Gryffindor, after all, and not easily dissuaded from pursuing a goal she believes to be righteous. I had hoped that I'd convinced her that it was safer to leave Miss Potter isolated, but I guess I underestimated Miss Granger's loyalty and drive. Those qualities may come in very handy in the future, but right now they're rather inconvenient._

Abruptly leaning forward over his desk, he realized that rather than deterring her, this latest incident might actually spur her on to ever more dangerous attempts to get to Miss Potter, and that he'd therefore either have to increase the daily guard just to keep her away or create additional magical protections that would inhibit her. _We really don't have the people to spare_ , he lamented, _and more magical protections won't be easy. The protections I created to divert wizards and witches from contacting Miss Potter had been difficult enough. I probably should have realized that they would catch muggle means of communication as well, but it's too late to change that. Probably for the best anyway._

 _Maybe I should invite Miss Granger to move to Grimmauld Place for the rest of the summer? That would distract her, perhaps... but she might also find help for her schemes._ Taking off his half-moon spectacles and rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance, he wondered yet again what it was about witches that caused him so many headaches.

* * *

 **Friday, July 30, 1995. Afternoon.**

Once more, Hermione Granger found herself in the Owl Post Office in Diagon Alley. None of her previous letters had resulted in any helpful advice, so she had decided to expand the pool of potential help.

She had been reluctant to take this extra step because she didn't want to spread information about Jasmine's predicament too widely. Now she was getting desperate, however, and decided to finally contact the other witches and wizards of their study group, since they had already demonstrated a tremendous amount of loyalty and support in the last few months. If she couldn't trust them with this, then how could they be trusted with anything? So yesterday she wrote nearly identical letters to Daphne, Tracey, Blaise, Susan, Hannah, and Padma, asking them if they had any ideas.

After she had paid for six owls and personally sent them on their way, she stopped by Flourish & Blotts to browse the books for a little bit before taking the train back home.

Despite regularly checking behind and around her, she never noticed the people who were following her — one at first, then later three by the time she'd left the bookstore. She was moving too fast among crowds that were too heavy for the three figures following her to snatch her off the street, but with care and a judicious use of magic, they successfully kept track of her all the way home. One stayed to keep an eye on the house while the other two left to report.

* * *

 **Saturday, July 31, 1995. Afternoon.**

Emma Granger held her daughter's hand tightly as the girl practically bounced up and down in her seat on the drive to Surrey. Like with the drive from King's Cross Station a little less than a month ago, she thought it would be best if she sat in the back seat next to her daughter because, regardless of how this went, she was sure that it would be emotionally draining and that Hermione would benefit from the comfort.

It had taken several days of pleading, negotiating, and guilt-tripping, but Hermione had finally convinced her parents to help her liberate Jasmine from her horrible relatives. The fact that it was Jasmine's birthday, a day on which she deserved to have a little fun and enjoyment, had played a big role in the guilt-tripping part. Emma and Lindsey were actually looking forward to spending a little time getting to know Jasmine, but they were concerned about running afoul of whatever magical protections might have been placed around her.

After a while, Hermione looked at her watch and asked, "Dad, shouldn't we be there by now?"

Emma, who was sitting opposite the driver's side, saw her husband frown when he answered, "Yes, I would have thought so, but the drive seems to be taking longer than I thought."

After another ten minutes, Lindsey pulled off at a petrol station and pulled out a map. He spent several minutes looking at it while Emma stroked the back of her anxious daughter's hand. Finally, Lindsey said, "I don't know, but this looks like the correct route. I guess I'm just driving more slowly than I realized."

Within moments they were back on the road. They kept going for another fifteen minutes before Hermione yelled, "Stop! Pull over!"

Lindsey quickly moved the car to the side of the road and asked, "What? What is it? What's wrong?"

Emma could see that Hermione looked both pale and furious. "Back there," her daughter said, "The petrol station we just passed. Isn't it the same one you stopped at to read the map?"

Emma frowned and Lindsey answered, "I hardly see how that's possible, pumpkin. I may not be the greatest driver in the world, but I can assure you that I haven't been driving us in circles!"

"Please, Dad," Hermione begged. "Just go back and look?"

Lindsey sighed and agreed. Once the traffic cleared, he turned the car around and pulled into the petrol station. "I will admit that it looks... awfully similar," he said slowly. "But that's not uncommon for big chains and franchises."

Hermione didn't look convinced, but said, "Alright, but let's keep our eyes open going forward, okay?"

Within a minute they were back on the road and heading in the direction they had been going originally. After fifteen minutes, Hermione pointed ahead and to the right, where an eerily familiar petrol station was located. This time, Lindsey pulled right in without being prompted.

"I remember that tire leaning against the wall," Hermione said in a low, dejected voice.

"Right," Lindsey said, "and I remember that faded sign in the window."

"Looks like we all had the same idea," Emma chimed in, "because I remember the number of the registration plate on that car parked on the side."

All three Grangers looked at each other in despair. None of them would be getting to Privet Drive that day.

* * *

"Happy birthday to me," Jasmine sang quietly to herself as she lay in her dilapidated old bed. "Happy birthday to me."

She wanted to cry. She also wanted to smash, rend, and destroy. She would have preferred the latter, but in the absence of any appropriate targets, she had to settle for the former.

* * *

 **Saturday, July 31, 1995. Night.**

Voldemort smiled magnanimously as he listened to Lucius Malfoy's plan. When his servants came to him yesterday to report that they had found the home of Potter's mudblood friend, many had wanted to immediately apparate there and attack. He had forbidden it, however, and insisted that in order to teach mudbloods and blood traitors an appropriate lesson, this had to be handled correctly — which meant going in with a plan.

He then surprised almost everyone when he gave responsibility for planning and leading the mission to Lucius Malfoy. Everyone thought Malfoy was no longer a favored servant, so why honor him with such an important and high-profile mission? From Voldemort's perspective, though, the choice was obvious: Lucius had more motivation than most to do the job right, and if he succeeded, then he'd have earned his way back into his master's good graces.

 _And if he fails... well, We still have uses for Narcissa, at least._

Lucius' decision to include his son was amusing, though Voldemort doubted that Draco would be much of an asset. Nevertheless, he supposed that the whelp needed to get experience eventually, and this mission was already being used to train some of the newly marked Death Eaters, so why not? It only required a dark ritual to remove the trace so he could cast spells at will — a ritual that involved quite a lot of pain, too. If young Draco was willing to pay the price, then so be it.

After making a few suggestions, including making it clear that the mudblood and her family were all to be brought back alive and whole, he gave Lucius' plan his blessing and ordered him to have his raiding party ready to go by sundown the following day.

* * *

Magorian heard Bane approach from behind. The herd had been unsettled for the past few weeks despite the large number of positive changes that had occurred in the forest, and the herd's leaders were desperate for some answers.

"What news?" Bane finally asked.

Magorian sighed. "As you know, Mars has been gradually increasing in brightness this past month — fluctuating, but always getting just a little bit brighter." Bane nodded. "Tonight, however, Mars flared incredibly bright — more than I've seen in many a long year."

Bane's rear hooves kicked out nervously. "And Venus?" he asked with trepidation.

Magorian frowned and said, "Curiously, Venus remains as brilliant as ever — not as intense as Mars, unfortunately, but bright nonetheless."

"So there is hope?" Bane asked.

"Yes," Magorian said gravely. "There is hope. But there will also be bloodshed and violence. That much is certain now."

"But we don't know where, do we?" Bane asked. When Magorian shook his head, Bane continued, "Then I will set extra guards and patrols." With that, he left, and Magorian returned to his study of the night sky, looking in vain for further insight.


	5. Mars, the Bringer of War

**A/N:** Well, this is the chapter that so many have been waiting for! Thank you, everyone for all your reviews, follows, and favorites — I'm glad that so many are enjoying it as much as the first two parts. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **A/N 2:** Where's Dobby? For those who may have forgotten, he and Winky were sent away on June 2 (chapter 58 of "The Power of Love") to learn from a muggle how to render down "monsters" like the basilisk for parts. Even if they were around, though, Dumbledore put up protections against house elves when he visited Privet Dr. in the spring. He remembered Dobby visiting before her second year and realized that it was a gaping hole in the defenses.

Also, it's worth remembering that Dumbledore was horrified that Jasmine had been kidnapped right out from under his nose, then tortured and nearly killed. He blames himself for all of her pain and injuries and consequently has been going way above and beyond in his efforts to protect her now. True, he's actually making things _worse_ for her, but he doesn't see that (especially since he knows nothing about the relationship between Jasmine and Hermione — he just thinks they're friends). His guilt is driving him, not unlike how his guilt over his sister's death has driven him in other ways that have resulted in mistakes.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "I'm Still Here" by kathryn518. Harry and Voldemort fight each other until much of the world is destroyed, and Voldemort finds a way to escape to another, parallel world. Harry pursues and encounters quite a lot more than he expected. Incomplete, but still getting occasional updates and one of the better "Harry goes to an alternate universe" fics written by one of the better fanfic authors.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 05 - Mars, the Bringer of War**

 **Sunday, August 1, 1995. Night.**

Jasmine's stomach gurgled and she looked at the clock, wondering if she could make it until morning without something to eat. The last time she'd forced herself to stay in her room to avoid an increasingly drunken Vernon, she'd had enough food stashed away to get by. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to replace it all yet, and she'd been getting hungrier and hungrier as the day had worn on. _Do I go hungry until tomorrow when Vernon's at work_ , she wondered, _or do I try to sneak downstairs to get some food now?_

Eventually, hunger won out and she slipped quietly out of her room. Very carefully, she walked to the steps, making sure to avoid the squeaky board at the top, and strained to listen to the noises from downstairs. Almost immediately she heard Dudley stomping about, announcing that he was going to Piers' house for tea. _At this hour?_ Jasmine resisted the urge to snort, knowing very well that Dudley and Piers were simply going to find smaller kids to bully. _Well, that's one less person I have to avoid being seen by_ , she thought when she heard Dudley leave. _Maybe this will work._

Before she could start making plans, however, the front door crashed back open, and she heard Dudley tumble in, screaming. Not giving any thought to the consequences, Jasmine practically jumped down the top half of the steps, and as she came around the corner to the lower half, she saw what she immediately recognized as a Dementor gliding through the doorway and into the hall. Only then did she realize that the house was growing cold as ice, and despair crept up the stairs in her direction. _How could that thing get in? What happened to Dumbledore's protections?_

Screams started coming from all of the Dursleys, and Jasmine just stood there in shock as a second Dementor appeared in the doorway. Instead of following the first, though, its hood turned and the blank emptiness where a face should be was aimed right at Jasmine. Slowly, its skeletal hand reached out in her direction. Jasmine felt frozen and helpless, unable to move or think as the second Dementor glided towards the stairs.

Before it could start to climb, however, Jasmine finally came to herself and whipped out her wand. She incanted _"_ _ **Expecto Patronum!**_ _"_ but all she got was a white mist as she heard her mother's screams join those of the Dursleys. By then the dementor was halfway up the bottom set of steps, and Jasmine felt the weight of the past summer pressing down on her. She felt alone and abandoned, and her knees began to buckle. She felt the burning pressure of Vernon's hand clenched around her arm, and she gasped in pain that seemed to be everywhere at once. She felt the frustration of spending so much time separated from the person she loved above all others….

 _Hermione!_

Jasmine closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and focused her entire being on Hermione and their experiences during Beltane. Her eyelids snapped open, revealing glowing green eyes, and she once again incanted _"_ _ **Expecto Patronum!**_ _"_

This time a bright white stag exploded out of her wand. It immediately lowered its head and gored the dementor, causing the dark creature to scream as it was lifted up on the antlers. The stag flew down the stairs, whipping its head and tossing the dementor out the front door, where its screams died away as it sailed into the darkness.

The patronus immediately turned around and charged down the hallway. Jasmine came the rest of the way down the stairs and was just in time to see the stag spear the other dementor with its antlers as the monster bent over Dudley in an attempt to suck out his soul. Her patronus lifted the shrieking thing and crashed out the back kitchen window.

Within seconds the stag was back in the hallway with her. Jasmine already felt like she was cocooned in Hermione's love just from the effort to cast her patronus, but when the stag approached her and started nuzzling her face, the emotions were so intense that they felt like they would burst out of her chest. _Wow, I didn't realize that a Patronus could be this powerful!_

It was then that Jasmine was suddenly overwhelmed by a vision: Hermione in trouble. Hermione fighting. Hermione terrified. Hermione being tortured.

Jasmine was near to panic, unsure of what to do. She looked up at the stag, which first cocked its head at her, then nodded as if it were giving her permission to do what she already knew she needed. And in an instant, she did know. Long before Hogwarts she had accidentally apparated to escape bullies at school — if she did it then, she could do it now. If she could do it to save herself, she could do it to save the witch she loved.

She ignored the lingering coldness. She ignored the sobbing figure of Petunia Dursley, bent over the prone body of her darling Duddikins. Breathing deeply, Jasmine closed her eyes and focused everything she had on her girlfriend. In a few seconds, she started feeling as if she were being squeezed through a straw.

* * *

Apolline jumped out of her chair when she saw Fleur and Gabrielle stagger into her home office. Both were pale and sickly-looking. "What is it?" she asked.

"Jasmine and Hermione," Fleur gasped out. "Something terrible is happening!"

Apolline helped both of her daughters to the couch then went to the fireplace to call Adrienne. When the the Theledrion member examined both sisters, she said, "I don't know what to do. I'm guessing that it's the bond they have with the English witches. We don't have any experience with this sort of bond, but I suspect it's snapping back on them for not being there in the others' time of need."

"What if we floo'd to them?" Fleur asked desperately.

Adrienne shook her head. "Do you know where they are? And if they're off the network and in a muggle area, how long would it take to get to them?" She sat down on one side of them while Apolline sat on the other. "I am truly sorry, but you are going to have to ride this out and hope those two are able to handle whatever danger they are in."

Fleur and Gabrielle held each other close as Apolline and Adrienne tried to comfort them. Although she didn't say anything aloud, Gabrielle vowed to all the goddesses that she would never, ever leave Jasmine alone to face danger again. No matter what it took, she would be there by her side to protect and help her.

* * *

Jasmine barely kept to her feet as she landed on an unfamiliar street. Down a little ways, she saw two figures in black cloaks standing in front of a house. Having a good idea of who they were, she walked quietly up behind them, but stopped when she felt as though she had passed through something and could suddenly hear the two talking.

"How long do we have to wait, again?" one asked.

"Until all of the others are done," the second answered. "Then we get our turn with the mudblood bitch and her mother. We just have to make sure they stay alive so that the Dark Lord can use them."

Jasmine's vision swam with red and she incanted _"_ _ **Lacero!**_ _"_ without pausing for thought. Both Death Eaters were cut in half before they even knew there was danger around them. Jasmine almost wanted to vomit when she saw the two halves of both wizards slide apart, but then she remembered why she was there and immediately started jogging across the rest of the yard. As she approached, the front door opened and another Death Eater appeared in the doorway. Again without thinking, Jasmine quickly cast _"_ _ **Confringo!**_ _"_ blowing the man apart and leaving numerous small flames licking at the damaged door frame.

She didn't have any sort of plan, she didn't know how many Death Eaters there were, and she didn't know where in the house they might be. All she knew was that Hermione was in there and in trouble, and that was all that mattered. She charged through the empty doorway and immediately to her left saw both Granger parents on the floor with a single Death Eater bending over them. Lindsey Granger appeared to be unconscious; Emma Granger was having her clothing ripped off.

The Death Eater had already turned to look at the front door when he heard his comrade get hit by Jasmine's spell, and upon seeing her enter the house, he quickly cast a cutting curse at her. As she tried to dodge to the side, she cast _Perforo,_ aiming carefully to avoid hitting either of Hermione's parents accidentally. The extra fraction of a second meant that Jasmine didn't move fast enough to avoid getting clipped on the side of the face, and she felt a sharp stinging sensation followed by warmth and wetness.

All of the time the girls had spent with target practice paid off, however, because her own curse connected, creating a hole right through the center of the Death Eater's mask and into the wall behind him. He dropped lifelessly to the floor, his wand rolling away.

While Emma Granger curled into a fetal position and twitched with what Jasmine recognized as the aftereffects of the _Cruciatus_ curse, Jasmine heard what could only be Hermione's screams of pain. She leapt over a black-robed body lying in the hall and raced into the Grangers' kitchen. There she found Hermione writhing in agony on the floor as the _Cruciatus_ was cast on her by the shorter of two standing Death Eaters; two others were lying in pools of blood and obviously no longer any threat.

"You dare raise your wand to us, mudblood?" the figure cursing Hermione snarled in a familiar voice. "You'll pay for killing three of our brothers! You'll be wishing for death before we're done with your filthy body!"

Jasmine quickly incanted _"_ _ **Discerpo!**_ _"_ at the speaker, severing his wand hand halfway up his forearm. He howled and spun around, and Jasmine immediately recognized him as Draco Malfoy. Furious, she cried, _"_ _ **Sphaera Ignea!**_ _"_ Just as she did so, the second and taller Death Eater cast _"_ _ **Avada Kedavra!**_ _"_ at her while reaching out for Malfoy with his free hand.

The green killing curse was poorly aimed because of the taller Death Eater's rushed movements and passed over Jasmine, exploding against the wall behind her. Her own curse struck both of the Death Eaters, and they burst into flames and screams just as they disappeared.

Running forward and kneeling next to Hermione's still-twitching body, Jasmine lifted her shoulders up off the floor and looked into her girlfriend's brown eyes.

"J-Jasmine? Is that you?"

"I'm here, Hermione," she answered softly. "I told you I'd always be here for you."

Hermione immediately pulled Jasmine into a bone-crushing hug which the green-eyed witch enthusiastically returned. After a long moment, Hermione pulled back and took a ragged breath before saying, "I g-got the three that came in the b-back door, but there were three more that came in the front and I couldn't g-get them, too. I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," Jasmine said, keeping her voice soft and soothing. "You did great."

"M-my parents?" she asked, suddenly scared.

"In the other room," Jasmine said. "They looked like they were alive when I came in here for you."

They stared at each other for a moment before Hermione tightened her arms about Jasmine's neck and Jasmine reciprocated, and suddenly the two were kissing — deeply, passionately, and desperately. The blue and green magical lights that burst forth from both of them were blinding — not to Jasmine and Hermione, who had their eyes closed, but to the woman who was standing just inside the kitchen doorway and who had to throw up her arm to shield her eyes from the unexpected brightness.

Neither witch heard Emma Granger gasp in shock when she could see again and recognized the passionate embrace for what it was. The sight of such a kiss instantly answered so many questions for her, but so many more were raised — and she wasn't ready to think about any of them just yet. Very quietly, she began to turn back to help her husband in the living room.

Unfortunately for all of them, Emma Granger wasn't the only person to see the glow. Jasmine never thought about the possibility that there might be more guards than just the two standing in front of the house, and three more masked Death Eaters charged in through the ruined back door, attracted by the bright glowing light they had seen shining out of the kitchen windows.

Only one of them, a veteran Death Eater from the previous war, already had his wand out. "Potter!" he bellowed as soon as he saw the two witches, raising his wand to strike. Jasmine and Hermione broke apart in shock at seeing that they were still in danger; Jasmine cast _"_ _ **Fortis Aegis!**_ _"_ to create a broad, shimmering shield between them and the intruders while Hermione groped around under the kitchen table to where she last saw her wand. Emma ducked down to take cover behind the counter.

Two quick spells hit Jasmine's shield, but it held while Hermione and the two other Death Eaters all brought their wands to bear.

After hearing her parents' screams and being tortured herself, Hermione Granger no longer felt the slightest hesitation at casting violent spells in defense of her loved ones. _"_ _ **Ossus Diffringo!**_ _"_ she incanted as she leaned around Jasmine's shield.

Hermione's constant practice over the past months made her just a bit faster and more accurate than the riff-raff Voldemort had been able to recruit thus far. Her bluish-grey spell impacted her opponent square in the pelvis, sending him crashing back, screaming in pain as most of the bones in the center of his body shattered. His own spell went wild and hit the cabinets above the counter that Emma was hiding behind, eliciting a cry from her. The other two cast even more powerful spells against Jasmine's shield, and still it held.

The veteran Death Eater stopped trying to take down the shield and chose instead to use an unforgivable, since those curses can't be blocked by shields. The Dark Lord wanted everyone alive — especially Potter — so he cast _"_ _ **Crucio!**_ _"_ at Potter, causing her to drop the shield and convulse in agony on the floor, leaving Hermione open to attack from the new recruit.

The recruit, however, found the sight of the young auburn-haired witch being tortured a bit **too** interesting, and in his distraction he gave Hermione an opening to cast _"_ _ **Defodio!**_ _"_ at the Death Eater torturing her girlfriend. Normally the violet curse would have simply left deep wounds on the man's body, even when cast by Hermione, but in her rage and fear she put so much power into the curse that the gouges went all the way through, damaging the wall behind him and leaving the Death Eater in pieces.

The final recruit had never been on a raid before, and seeing a veteran Death Eater split into pieces shocked him so badly that his wand shook, and he couldn't think of what spell to cast. Neither Hermione nor Jasmine were willing to give him more time, though, and they simultaneously cast _"_ _ **Contundo!**_ _"_ sending him flying through the wall into the backyard with more bones broken than not.

This time, Hermione took a moment to look for additional threats, peering through the new opening in the wall and casting a quick _Hominem Revelio_ before returning to help Jasmine up off the floor. The two witches immediately fell into each other's arms again and held on tight as all the adrenaline started to drain away. "Are you alright?" Hermione asked as she held her still-twitching girlfriend.

"Oh, s-sure," Jasmine replied with a weak attempt at bravado. "N-not as bad as V-voldemort."

Hermione pulled back from the hug slightly, looked into Jasmine's green eyes and whispered, "I'll always come for you, too."

Jasmine smiled. "I know you will."

"I swear to you, too," Hermione continued, "that no distance separating us and no bonds holding me back will ever keep me from you if you're in trouble. Nothing will ever stop me from striking down any who dare hurt you." The passionate kiss that followed was once again accompanied by the glowing lights, though not as strong as those which had blazed forth a few minutes earlier.

Suddenly Hermione remembered her mother's scream and pulled away so she could check on her. Emma Granger was still twitching a bit from her exposure to the _Cruciatus_ earlier, and the exploding cabinet had left her dazed and with a few cuts on her face, but she was otherwise uninjured. Both Granger women hugged each other and sobbed as Jasmine looked on.

By the time Jasmine and Hermione had Emma back to the living room, Lindsey Granger was starting to wake up and Hermione had begun to feel a lot better. She was, in fact, improving faster than Jasmine had after she'd been kidnapped in the spring. Hermione wasn't sure if that was because Draco Malfoy was so much worse at casting the _Cruciatus_ than Voldemort (which was almost certainly the case), if her protection amulet had helped her, or if it had something to do with the odd glowing lights she thought she had seen when she had opened her eyes at the end of their kiss. They reminded her of the glowing light she had thought she had seen at Beltane, but she didn't understand how the two could be connected.

"Here, let me take care of that," she said to Jasmine once she was sure her parents were recovering. With a very gentle incantation of _"Episkey,"_ she ran her wand along the cut on Jasmine's face, healing it so well that it wouldn't scar. After that they simply leaned against each other in physical and emotional exhaustion, overwhelmed by all they had seen and done this night.

"I think we overestimated the ability of new locks and an alarm system to help us," Lindsey muttered as he and Emma embraced, similarly exhausted and overwhelmed

When several cracks of apparition sounded out in front of the house a few minutes later, both girls lifted their wands into casting position — neither had put them away while they talked to Hermione's parents about what to do next. Jasmine took a chance at peeking out a window and saw several figures, none of which were in black cloaks. Two were standing around on the front lawn, looking at the bodies of the two she'd sliced in half, while the rest were headed towards the house with wands drawn.

Fortunately, she recognized one as looking like Remus Lupin. "Don't come any closer!" she shouted in the direction of the remains of the front door. More quietly to Hermione, she said, "There are at least five, and one looks like Professor Lupin."

Hermione nodded and said, "He's working with Professor Dumbledore, so he may have sent them."

"Who's in there?" came a gruff voice.

"Is that Moody?" Jasmine asked quietly. Hermione shrugged, so Jasmine answered, "Someone who will curse first and ask questions later. This is private property, so you identify yourselves first."

Jasmine could have sworn she heard someone laugh before a familiar voice responded, "Remus Lupin, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, Junior Auror Nymphadora Tonks, Retired Auror Alastor Moody, and Healer Emmeline Vance."

"Uh, okay," Jasmine said. "But how do I know you are who you say you are?"

"Dammit, Lupin, hurry it up! We don't have time for this!" they heard the gruff voice complain.

Then Remus' voice said, "Ask me something only Remus Lupin would know."

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, then Hermione called out, "What was the first thing you said to me when we saw each other on the street the other day?"

There was a moment's hesitation before he said in a regretful voice, "I said I was disappointed in you, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded to Jasmine and said, "That's him."

Jasmine's eyes narrowed. "You're really going to have to tell me that story."

Hermione's mouth quirked before she called out, "You can enter, but keep your hands where we can see them."

All five named people entered the house and an unfamiliar witch, whom Jasmine presumed to be Vance, asked, "Is anyone injured?"

"My mum, Jasmine, and I were put under the _Cruciatus_ ," Hermione said, "but I'm doing alright at the moment. I don't know what they did to my dad. Oh, Jasmine also had a cut on her face, but I already healed that."

One of them, a tall black man, had left the group and returned while Vance was examining the Grangers. "In addition to the two in the front, we've got five dead Death Eaters in the house and a sixth in the backyard," he said soberly, looking a little queasy. "Also, I think we stepped in one as we entered the house. Otherwise, it's all clear." Mad-Eye Moody — the real one, Jasmine hoped — nodded and turned to the younger witches.

"I'll want to know what happened here, but we need to leave before anyone from the Ministry shows up," he told them. "No matter what happened, the involvement of two underage witches will turn this into a complete mess, and the way the Ministry is right now, I don't trust that you'll be treated fairly. So we need some distance and time to prepare a defense."

He looked at the healer and said, "Vance, make sure the parents are fine while we take the girls to headquarters, then—"

"No!" Hermione said. When Moody looked in surprise at her, she said, "I won't leave without my parents."

"Look, missy," he said in exasperation, "headquarters is a magical house, and muggles shouldn't—"

"I don't care," Hermione said defiantly. "We were all just attacked by Death Eaters, and I refuse to be separated from my family."

Before Moody could respond, Jasmine stepped forward, wand slightly elevated, to add, "And I won't be leaving without Hermione."

"Mad-Eye?" Remus said quietly. When he had the older auror's attention, he continued, "I don't think Sirius will mind having Mr. and Mrs. Granger as guests, even if it means making special allowances for them. He thinks very highly of Miss Granger and would enjoy meeting her parents, I'm sure."

Moody growled in annoyance. "Fine, fine, we'll all leave. That just means we're under more pressure." He turned to the dark-skinned man and said, "Shacklebolt, help Miss Granger gather her school stuff. Lupin, you help the Grangers pack for a few days."

He then turned to Jasmine while the Grangers all went upstairs and said, "Potter, we'll send someone to get your school stuff tomorrow, then—"

"My stuff might not be there by tomorrow," Jasmine cut in as Vance looked over her cheek where Hermione had healed her wound. "After the dementor attack earlier, I expect Vernon to burn all my stuff, assuming he hasn't already."

That statement was greeted with stunned silence, then everyone started speaking at once.

"Quiet!" Moody shouted over the furor, getting more and more annoyed by the minute. "Potter," he grated, "did you just say that there was a dementor?"

"Yes," Jasmine replied matter-of-factly, "two of them. One of them might have kissed my cousin, but I don't know. Right after I got rid of them, I came here."

Moody was about to say something when a phoenix patronus flew in and said in Dumbledore's voice, "Alastor, likely dementor attack at the Dursleys. Jasmine Potter is missing. Hurry here to help."

Moody closed his good eye and appeared to be trying to calm himself. Finally, he said, "Vance, if you're done with Potter, go upstairs and hurry the Grangers along. Our night just got even more complicated, because we're all making a side trip to Little Whinging before we can go to headquarters."

Turning to Jasmine, he fixed her with both his normal and his magical eyes and said, "Did anything **else** happen tonight that I need to be aware of, Potter?"

"Uh, not that I know of," Jasmine answered, suddenly feeling very small and nervous.

Moody gave a single nod and said, "Good — see that you keep it that way, too!" He then stomped outside, muttering indistinctly as he cast his own messenger patronus to reassure the Headmaster about Jasmine's whereabouts.

* * *

When the motley group of magicals and muggles apparated into the Dursleys' backyard, it was obvious that there were problems in the house: all the lights were on, and raised voices were easy to hear. Hermione saw Jasmine tense and immediately moved next to her so she could take her arm. "Come on, Jas, let's go get your stuff," she said.

That got everyone moving, though the Grangers were the slowest because of their recent injuries, and soon the small ground floor of the house was filled with people, causing Vernon Dursley to get even more enraged. "What are all of you freaks doing here?" he bellowed. "We don't want any of you here, and we're tired of you interfering with our lives!"

"Is that normal for him?" Hermione asked in a whisper. Jasmine just nodded grimly.

"Ah, Healer Vance," Hermione heard Dumbledore call out. "Would you please check over young Mr. Dursley, here? He's been exposed to dementors and is still suffering some ill effects."

"What are you doing to my Duddikins?" demanded a woman — Petunia, Hermione surmised.

"You have nothing to fear, Mrs. Dursley," Vance responded. "I'm just checking to see how healthy he is and what I can do to help him recover faster." Petunia just kept crying over a whale of a boy who had to be Dudley.

Dumbledore then turned to Jasmine, giving her a relieved smile before saying, "Miss Potter, I'm very happy to see you alive and well. When I noticed the alarms for the wards here going off, I rushed over to see what was wrong. Eventually I was able to get enough out of your family to conclude that they were likely attacked by dementors, but I couldn't find the dementors any more than I could find you."

Jasmine nodded stiffly and said, "It was two dementors, but I left right after I drove them off because Hermione was in danger." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at that, but before he could inquire further, Moody made his presence known.

"Potter!" the grizzled old auror shouted. "What are you doing, still standing there? Get your stuff! Tonks, go with her, and make it quick."

Hermione and Tonks both accompanied Jasmine to her room, a room so small that the three of them barely fit.

"They don't give you much, do they?" Tonks asked disbelievingly while Hermione just shook her head.

"It's better than my cupboard under the stairs," Jasmine muttered under her breath, but Tonks caught the comment easily.

Once they got Jasmine's trunk downstairs, Hermione saw Tonks walk slowly over to the cupboard door, open it, then close it quickly while her hair cycled between several different colors. She then went to Remus to say something before Moody called her outside. Hermione joined Remus at the cupboard door while Tonks exited the house. He sniffed the air deeply and blanched.

Hermione already had a good idea of what was behind the door, so she let Remus open it. When he did so, she couldn't help but ask quietly, "Do you still believe Dumbledore's assurances that Jasmine is safest here?" She didn't bother waiting for a reply, instead turning away and rejoining her girlfriend.

* * *

"What's up, Mad-Eye?" Tonks called as she walked out of the house, then stopped and waited while she watched him cast spells at the air around the house. "Checking the wards?" she asked when he finished and turned to face her.

"Aye, Albus asked me to double-check his own conclusions," Moody answered. "Bloody pitiful, they are. Merlin-be-damned blood protections are practically non-existent, but he's been keeping that lass isolated here since term ended in order to recharge them! Something's very wrong here, and what's worse, even with how weak they are, they still shouldn't have let any threats in."

"That doesn't sound right," Tonks responded with a frown as she tried to review what she knew about blood protections, which wasn't very much.

"You've got that right, lass," Moody said, and Tonks thought she could detect a hint of a growl in his voice. She didn't blame him — more than one member of the Order had expressed reservations about how extreme Jasmine's isolation was, but Dumbledore kept insisting that her safety trumped all other considerations right now. Isolation had kept her safe before she ever got to Hogwarts, and he seemed to feel that it offered the most security now.

Tonks wasn't so sure, but the pained look on Dumbledore's face whenever the subject came up told her that he genuinely feared for Jasmine, so she had given him the benefit of the doubt. Of course, the irony was that he'd been right about the danger, yet the protections he went to such extremes to employ had proven useless for some reason.

"Wake up and pay attention!" Moody half-shouted as he pointed at a black shape on the ground, mostly hidden under a rose bush. "I found that when I came out here to check the wards for Albus. Tell me what it is, **Junior** Auror Tonks."

Tonks frowned, looking at what she assumed was a simple black cloak. _If it were, though, Mad-Eye wouldn't be making a test out of it_ , she concluded. _Probably._

First she cast several standard detection spells, then she cast a few obscure ones. Finally, she picked it up in her hands and examined it. Abruptly, she tossed it away from her and started vigorously rubbing her hands on her robes. "What the—! Is that—? But... Mad-Eye, is that a dementor cloak?"

Moody grinned and said, "Aye, lass, that's exactly what it is. And, judging by some of the bits I see around here," he kicked at something with the tip of his wooden leg, "I think we've got what's left of a dementor, too."

"But..." Tonks was at a loss for words. Dementors couldn't be killed — everyone knew that. If you were sufficiently skilled and powerful you could drive them off, but that was it.

"Yeah, I know, it's impossible," Moody said as he stomped back to the front door. "Potter!" he called, "Tell me what happened to the dementors!"

Tonks heard Jasmine explain that her patronus pushed one out the front door and the second out through the kitchen window. Moody turned back to her and gestured for her to go around to the back of the house to see what she could find. Within moments, she found another dementor cloak — everyone had walked right past it in the dark when they entered the house earlier.

She reported her discovery to Moody, who just shook his head, then pulled out a pair of bags and ordered her to gather up all the evidence — cloaks, bits, pieces, and whatever else she could find. Using her metamorphmagus skills to create a far more disgusted expression than was humanly possible, she proceeded to follow orders while cursing Moody with every nasty word she knew, plus a few she made up just for the occasion.

* * *

Meanwhile, Dudley had been given a large piece of chocolate and was feeling better by the minute — a situation that Jasmine noted had been rather common throughout his life. She tried her best to ignore the arguments surrounding the Dursleys, but Vernon's was not a voice that was easily ignored. "I want all of you freaks out of here!"

"Freaks?" Emma Granger asked. "I know that many people don't particularly enjoy going to the dentist, but this is the first time I've ever been insulted like that!"

That response seemed to catch Vernon up short. "Uh, dentists? You mean, like normal dentists?"

"Yes," Emma said with narrowed eyes. "I try to make things as normal as possible for my patients."

"Then what are you doing with these freaks?" Vernon asked, his voice rising again.

"What freaks?" Lindsey asked, not comprehending.

"He means me," Jasmine said quietly to the Grangers. "Well, all witches and wizards, actually, but he's usually talking about me. I'm the freak. Sorry about that."

Lindsey shot Vernon a withering glare that promised pain... and no anaesthesia. Emma decided to go a bit further and spoke in a quiet, menacing voice, "This young lady just saved my family from people who were going to kill us. Without her, we'd all be dead. Or worse! And from what I heard, she saved **your** family, too! You'd have been left as soulless husks, according to these people." Emma moved to put her arm around Jasmine, and the young witch could feel that it continued to twitch every so often. "How can you call this dear girl a freak when you owe your very lives to her?"

"Perhaps we should leave..." Dumbledore said diplomatically.

"Leave! Yes!" Vernon thundered, his already-red face coloring even more. "Leave, and take the freak brat with you! She only had to save us because she put us in danger in the first place — we're better off without her or you lot anywhere near us! Normal people shouldn't mix with you freaks. It's unnatural! We never wanted her in the first place, and we don't want her back here ever again!"

"Vernon!" Petunia cried out, but he wasn't budging this time.

"Pet, she almost got our Dudley killed — and maybe us as well," he said to his wife. "We always knew she was dangerous. You should have let me try harder to stamp the freakishness out of her, instead of feeling sorry for her because she was a girl. Well, now look at what she's done!" He gestured to Dudley, causing Petunia to start crying again.

"Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore said anxiously, "please don't act in anger and haste. It's very important that—"

"What's important is that my family be kept safe, which isn't possible when that freak is around!" Vernon responded, pointing a fat, shaking finger in Jasmine's direction. "We want her and all of you freaks gone for good! We don't want any of you to ever darken our doorstep again!"

Dumbledore's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Perhaps you should get all the rest of your things, Miss Potter," he said sadly to Jasmine, "as it seems you won't be allowed to return here."

Jasmine frowned at him. "Rest? I don't have anything else — never did. All that I own is in my school trunk, as usual, so we can leave immediately. I'm as anxious to get out of this house as they are to throw me out." She missed Dumbledore's pained expression when she turned at hearing Moody's voice.

"We should have left a while ago," Moody shouted. "We're long out of time and need to get these witches to a safe location." Dumbledore nodded tiredly, gave a half smile to Jasmine, then said goodbye to the Dursleys. Once everyone was again in the backyard, they all apparated to what seemed to be a rundown residential neighborhood in London.

"I could tell you this directly," Dumbledore said as he conjured a small piece of parchment and began writing, "but I'd rather not risk being overheard, just in case we're being observed by the wrong sorts of people." Once he was done, he showed Jasmine and the Grangers the parchment, instructing them to memorize what he'd written on it: "The Order of the Phoenix is located at Number 12 Grimmauld Place." They were then told to look in front of them and concentrate on the phrase they read. As they did so, a house magically appeared in between Number 11 and Number 13, pushing the other two out of the way.

Dumbledore took back and burned the parchment before leading the way up the front steps. When he reached the top, the door opened to reveal Sirius Black standing there.

"It's about time!" he said. "What took all of you so long?"

* * *

In France, Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour were feeling much better, but they were profoundly unhappy. Something terrible had happened, and while their friends had evidently survived, both veela felt that they should have been there to help. They felt that it was their duty, in fact, and consequently Fleur began immediate preparations to move to Britain — something that had already been planned, but which could no longer wait. With luck, she'd be in London late tomorrow.

Gabrielle was furious at being left behind, but she was underage, and it was still uncertain whether they'd be able to get her into Hogwarts. That would be one of Fleur's tasks over the next month, in addition to finding a job herself and figuring out a way to stay in close contact with Jasmine and Hermione. That didn't make Gabrielle feel any better, though, and she started making plans for what she could do to get to Jasmine's side if Fleur wasn't successful.

* * *

Voldemort looked down with utter contempt at the two smoldering Malfoys. This was the second time that Lucius had to be saved from burning up, and now it looked like Draco was following in his father's footsteps.

No, it was worse, because at least Lucius still had all of his limbs.

"Explain to Us," he said slowly, partly because he was trying to hold in his anger until he got the full story and partly because he was still recovering from a new and unexpected bout of pain that had hit him earlier, "why you were unable to get past the old man's protections, even though you led eleven of Our servants — two veterans besides yourself plus your whelp and seven recently marked recruits?"

"My Lord," Lucius wheezed, clearly having trouble with the pain, "Protective wards... had been placed there at one time, but they were practically... non-existent when we approached the house."

Voldemort thought about that for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, that makes sense. It's a muggle area, so unless he came back regularly to recharge his wards, they wouldn't have lasted long. Continue."

"The mudblood fought back," Lucius explained. "After we subdued her muggle parents... at the front of the house, Draco and I went to the back... where she had killed one recruit. She then killed… two more before my son and I could stop her."

Voldemort frowned at hearing this. He knew that none of his recent recruits were especially strong or skilled — that would take time to build — but they were adult wizards with some experience, and they shouldn't have had a problem with a single mudblood witch who hadn't even taken her OWLs yet. _Maybe there is a flaw in the tactics being used?_ he wondered.

"Then what happened?" Voldemort asked.

"It was that Potter bitch!" Draco burst out before his father could answer. He waved the stump of his right arm in rage. "She did this to me! She cut off my wand hand! I want revenge — I want her screaming at my feet!"

Voldemort cast a quick _Cruciatus_ at the whelp for shouting at him, though in truth he wasn't all that upset — such anger and passion were useful, so long as they were directed properly. "Is this true, Lucius?" Voldemort asked. "Did Potter interrupt you? Did the little witch once again… set you alight?" There were soft snickers from the assembled Death Eaters standing around the edges of the room.

Lucius nodded painfully. "Yes, my Lord. She cast… both the curses."

Voldemort leaned his head back in thought. "No one else has returned," he said, "so We must assume that she or whomever she was working with did something to the others. We find it unlikely that an underaged witch working alone could have taken out several of Our servants without you hearing it, but We should not exclude the possibility, either."

He paused for a moment in contemplation, then said, "Either way, your leadership resulted in the loss of seven newly marked Death Eaters on their very first raid plus two of your long-time brothers in Our service, Crabbe and Goyle, to say nothing of the injuries sustained by both you and your… spawn. The only thing you seem to have done right is to let Us know about how badly you failed — not that that is especially praiseworthy."

He motioned for someone to remove the two Malfoys and to see to their injuries. _We should kill Lucius for his failure tonight_ , he considered, _but not until We know more about what happened to him. We need to understand how my servants were defeated before We dare send more into such situations._ He winced as the throbbing in his head grew more intense. _We also need to resume work on finding out what is happening to Us._

* * *

At the Granger home in Crawley and the Dursley home in Little Whinging, two owls from the Ministry of Magic circled around, looking for the intended recipients of letters from Mafalda Hopkirk, an assistant in the Improper Use of Magic Office who had tea with Dolores Umbridge several times a week.

Eventually the owls gave up and returned to the Ministry, much to Umbridge's delight, since that meant she could add fleeing the scene of a crime to the list of charges. "Is this everything?" she asked in her sweetest voice as she gathered up the reports produced by the spells which the Ministry used to monitor underaged magic.

"Y-y-yes," Hopkirk answered. "But... but those spells cast by Miss Grang—"

"Came at just the right time, I know," Umbridge interrupted, shoving everything into her bag without bothering to read any of it. "These are all the copies, right?" she asked, and at Hopkirk's nervous nod she cast a spell to seal the bag securely. "Good. I'll just keep them safe, then — we wouldn't want anything to happen to the evidence in case there are questions later on. You'll be able to send out the expulsion notices again tomorrow, won't you? It's important that they receive them." _Assuming Potter is still alive_ , she added silently. _Though if not, we'll at least be able to get rid of her little mudblood friend._

Hopkirk nodded nervously again.

"Excellent. See you tomorrow for tea!" Umbridge let out a little giggle as she exited the Improper Use of Magic Office and headed home, looking forward to sleeping the sleep of the just.


	6. The Girls Are Back

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people seem to be enjoying it as much as the first two parts. And of course, a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **A/N 2:** Just in case you weren't aware of it, I've started publishing a second story: "Amy Potter is... Batgirl!" It's a crossover between Harry Potter and the 1966 Batman TV show. More than one reviewer has already expressed their enjoyment of the story despite not being a fan of the show, so you might want to check it out, even if you are skeptical of the premise. It's intended to be funny, fast-paced, and cute.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Murder Most Horrid" by Useful Oxymoron. Extreme AU where Voldemort never existed, Bellatrix Black is a cynical detective, and Hermione Granger is a suspect in a murder case... who develops a massive crush on said detective. I know, it might sound odd, but I looked forward to it every Saturday morning for well over a year while it was being published.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 06 - The Girls Are Back**

 **Monday, August 2 ,1995. Morning.**

Jasmine woke up very reluctantly. It had been extremely late by the time they'd all gotten to bed because even after they'd arrived at Sirius' house, she and Hermione had had to relate their stories and answer probing questions from both the aurors and Dumbledore. Jasmine couldn't be sure, but she suspected that people had started looking at her strangely after she'd told them about how she'd been certain that Hermione was in trouble and apparated to her house, despite never having learned how to apparate or even ever having visited Hermione.

Explaining that long before Hogwarts she'd once apparated to the roof of her school to escape bullies seemed to have helped, but she didn't know how much. Even she and Hermione weren't sure what to think about that, but they were inclined to chalk it up to their unexplained growth in power.

That Jasmine had been put in a room with Ginny while Hermione had been put in another with her parents hadn't improved Jasmine's mood at all. She didn't mind being around Ginny and certainly didn't begrudge Hermione being close to her parents; she was, however, coming off of a month of isolation and loneliness, and she was simply not feeling well.

By the time she made it down to breakfast, being sure to step quietly past the portrait of Sirius' mother so as to avoid being screamed at (even though Sirius had whispered to her last night that both his mother and Kreacher would be putting on an act), everyone else was already there — including the Grangers, the Weasleys, and a couple of the aurors she'd met the previous night. Hermione had saved her a seat, and it took all of Jasmine's willpower to not simply lean into the bushy-haired witch and doze.

Mrs. Weasley, of course, fretted over her and insisted on pushing large portions of food in front of her. According to Mrs. Weasley, both she and Hermione were looking far too gaunt after just a month in the muggle world and needed food — lots and lots of food. Jasmine could hardly object after how little she'd eaten in the past week and how much the fight last night had taken out of her. She didn't understand, though, why Hermione also looked a bit gaunt.

After a mug of strong tea and some of Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking, she started to take notice of the conversations going on around her at the large table.

"So according to Mad-Eye," Sirius was telling the Grangers, "He, Tonks, and Shacklebolt have finished their investigation and cleanup of the scenes. Shack will be taking everything, including his records of his interviews with the girls, to Amelia Bones sometime today. He doesn't think she'll be able to do anything officially, since that will lead to Fudge getting involved. At the very least he'd cover it up, making further progress impossible. Now, though, Bones at least knows what's going on, and muggle authorities have been notified that some sort of gas leak affected your house, so you won't have to deal with that aside from signing some stuff. How are you two feeling?"

"I'm still a bit stiff, but otherwise mostly fine," Lindsey answered. "Emma here is worse off. She's still sore all over and has occasional twitches, but that potion you gave us last night must have helped because she started feeling better almost immediately."

"Good," Sirius said. "You're lucky that the Death Eater who cursed you wasn't particularly competent, otherwise the potion wouldn't have done any good. If you have any more problems, anything at all, just let someone know. We'll get Emmeline Vance in here to check you over again."

Lindsey and Emma both nodded in thanks. "We're going to have to do something about our practice," Emma said. "We can't just not show up."

"I don't suppose you have a phone?" Lindsey asked.

Tonks smiled sadly and shook her head. "Sorry, but muggle electronics don't function well when surrounded by magic. People in the muggle houses on either side can have electronic devices, though they might not always work quite right if they are too close to the shared walls; but deep inside the magic of this house, they won't function at all. There might be a pay phone in the neighborhood, though."

"We'll need to cancel appointments for today, at least," Emma said to her husband, "then get replacements to come in for a few days while we sort out what we're going to do. We can easily use the cover story of what happened to our house to justify that." Lindsey nodded, and the three of them began discussing likely places in the area where they might find a phone they could use.

Not being very interested in the rest of that conversation, Jasmine looked to her other side at Ron and asked, "How long have you and your family been here?"

"We came in last week," he said between mouthfuls. "Sorry we weren't able to write to you, by the way. Ginny and I tried, but Mum stopped us — said Dumbledore had forbidden it. He later said that we were vulnerable at the Burrow and that we'd not only be safer here, but we'd be helping the Order."

"Order?" Jasmine asked.

"Yeah, Order of the Phoenix," Ginny answered. "It's a group that Dumbledore organized to fight You-Know-Who the last time he was around." In the background, Kreacher shuffled by, mumbling about blood traitors defiling the House of Black.

"Mostly we've just been cleaning the place," Ron complained as he scowled down at Kreacher. "And we can't even use magic to do it! It's just nasty — and boring, too." Jasmine made a sympathetic noise while privately thinking that she would have been thrilled to clean a magical house if it meant she could have spent time with friends and family. "We can't even get any help from Kreacher. He's the house elf that just walked by. All he does is skulk about, muttering insults under his breath. Completely mental, he is."

Just as the elder Grangers were getting up to leave, two owls came in bearing letters for Jasmine and Hermione from the Ministry of Magic. Upon reading them, Hermione got a horrified look on her face while Jasmine's expression was simply resigned. "Oh, look," she said in a bored tone. "I'm expelled for using magic outside school. Again."

"So am I!" Hermione cried. "This is outrageous! They can't do this!"

Everyone started talking at once, though while the Grangers worriedly read over their daughter's letter, Jasmine simply went back to her breakfast. "Jasmine," Hermione said heatedly, "why aren't you more upset about this?"

"Why should I be?" Jasmine asked. "This is the second time in a little over two months that this has happened to me — both times when defending myself and people I care about from dark wizards. As far as I'm concerned, this sums up how British magical society works: protect criminals while prosecuting those who dare defend themselves. Is it any wonder that I've been thinking about abandoning this island?"

All the arguing abruptly stopped when people heard that comment, with most of those present gasping in surprise. Jasmine wasn't done yet, though. "Expelling me just means that I don't have to make the decision anymore — they've made it for me. All I need to do is empty my vault, get a passport, and I'm out of here."

Hermione leaned into Jasmine, trying not to sob, and neither noticed how everyone was staring at them with horrified expressions on their faces. Tonks' jaw had hit the table — literally, without her having to move her head. Only Sirius and the Grangers didn't look upset, though for different reasons.

"Jasmine!" Molly Weasley said. "You wouldn't really leave, would you? Where would you go?"

Jasmine shrugged. "Except for the Weasley family and a very few friends, there's not much holding me here, Mrs. Weasley. I've got no roots in the magical community because Dumbledore ensured that I didn't grow up in it, and I have no love for the muggle community because no one there ever protected me from the Dursleys. As to where I'd go... well, wherever looked good, I guess. Someplace I'd be free and able to live my life the way I want."

Arthur wanted to argue that there were lots of great things about magical Britain, but after reading those expulsion letters, he was hard-pressed to think of any just then. Instead, he said, "I'd better go let Albus know before I go into work. He'll know what to do about all this."

Sirius reached out and put a hand on Jasmine's. "Kiddo, I understand how fed up you are with things here. Merlin knows, I'm not going to defend our Ministry. But this isn't the way you want to go out — it will only make things worse."

"What do you mean?" Jasmine asked with a frown.

"If you're expelled before taking your OWLs," Sirius explained, "they don't just snap your wand, they bind your magic in order to deny you further access to the magical world at all. Well, they'll do that with Hermione, at least. They don't typically do that with pureblood students and instead let them try to get into a different school abroad. In your case, though, I wouldn't be surprised if they did try it."

The Grangers' outrage was even greater once they learned this, and Jasmine started getting angry that anyone would try to take magic away from her or Hermione. It was only the latter putting her hand on Jasmine's shoulder that calmed her down at all.

"I'd better contact Mad-Eye to let him know," Tonks announced. "He'll probably want to talk to Madam Bones, since she's having those incidents quietly investigated." Turning to the Grangers, she added, "Once I've done that, we can go out and look for a phone, okay?" The Grangers nodded and people started going their separate ways, though each had similar thoughts about what must have been happening for the Girl Who Lived to be so apathetic about staying in magical Britain.

* * *

Emma Granger had more reasons than most to be intrigued by Jasmine Potter's possible willingness to leave the country — she now knew that Jasmine was the reason her own daughter objected so strongly to doing just that. Given what she saw the previous night, if Jasmine left, then Hermione would want to walk out of Britain right by her side.

Emma still hadn't come to terms with what she had seen — not by a long shot. She was shocked that her daughter might be romantically involved with another girl, relieved that she now understood so much of her odd behavior recently, disappointed that her daughter hadn't confided in her, concerned about whether this was just a phase, upset that her daughter would do something that seemed so unnatural, and a whole host of other emotions that she hadn't even identified yet.

All that was complicated by the fact that she and her entire family had not only nearly died in a vicious attack the night before, but also owed their lives to the actions of the very girl her daughter was involved with.

And she still had no idea how or when she'd explain all of this to her husband.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore stirred sugar into his tea as he thought about the recent events surrounding Jasmine Potter. First there was the dementor attack, something which shouldn't have been possible with the blood wards he'd erected around the house back when he originally left her with the Dursleys. Apparently, they had been far weaker than he'd realized when he'd gone there to reinforce the the house's magical protections.

 _If dementors could enter_ , he considered, _then sooner or later anyone else wishing her harm might have been able to as well — including Tom! I wish I knew why the blood wards were failing so badly... and I really should have returned to Miss Granger's home to reinforce the wards I put up there. I didn't realize that they would fall so far, so fast, in the absence of ambient magic. It was fortunate that the alarm ward lasted just long enough for me to send help._

He had to put that problem aside, though, because Miss Potter had been kicked out of the house, and what little was left of the blood wards had fallen soon after, so it was a moot point. A more immediate problem was the violence the two young witches were engaging in — and their apparent ability to deliver violence on a high level, too. _I'd hoped to begin turning her away from her violent path_ , he lamented. _With Tom back, guiding her to a path that's less focused on violence and conflict was going to be critical, but now she and Miss Granger have shown themselves to be far more violent than I ever realized._

Dumbledore understood that when defending yourself, you couldn't always ensure the safety of others. Shacklebolt's initial report, though, indicated that the dead Death Eaters had been taken down with brutal spells that were used when one intended to maim or kill. He sighed and shook his head in despair.

 _If I can't turn Miss Potter away from this dark path that she's on,_ he thought, _then even if she manages to defeat Tom, the fate of the wizarding world may not turn out much better than if she were to fail. We need her to follow the path of light if she's going to become the leader that I know she can be. We need someone like her — a heroine, a symbol, and a powerful witch — to ensure that our way of life is preserved and passed along to future generations._

On top of all that, the brutal spells that they had used had been cast with more power than Dumbledore would have thought possible. _There are few enough adult witches or wizards who can cut bodies into pieces with single spells_ , he thought. _If neither of those two have been using dark rituals to empower themselves — and that seems highly unlikely — then how did they get to be that powerful? Come to think of it, how did Miss Potter apparate like that?_

He stopped to consider some of the things he'd witnessed about Jasmine Potter in the last year — the slight glow behind her eyes just before the second task, the spells she used to escape the graveyard, the exploding hedges during the third task, and now events last night. _She's either been holding back_ , he concluded, _or she's grown in power. Either way, she's quite a bit stronger than any fifth-year witch should be. But why? And is it just her, or is Miss Granger affected as well? If it's just Miss Potter, then I'd have to consider whether the soul fragment is doing something to boost her magic, which means it likely would be corrupting her too. If it's both... then I have no idea._

 _Of course_ , he reminded himself, _none of that will matter if I don't find some way of extracting the horcrux without killing Miss Potter in the process. I still haven't made any progress on that, and with Tom's return... hmm... I don't suppose his use of her blood would change things? I might get some insight into that from reading…._

"Albus! Albus!" came a frantic shout from his fireplace.

Immediately setting aside his contemplations in favor of this new emergency, he strode over and saw Arthur Weasley's face, clearly upset. "What's the matter, Arthur?" Dumbledore asked. "Has something happened at headquarters?"

"Yes," Arthur answered. "Letters from the Ministry! Jasmine and Hermione have been expelled!"

"What?" Dumbledore asked, horrified. "Come through right away and tell me what happened."

* * *

Shortly after breakfast, Jasmine and Hermione snuck off with Sirius, who showed them to the Black Family Library. Once the girls had been granted access and they had sealed the doors, Jasmine threw herself into his arms for a hug. "Hey, kitten," he said, sounding a bit confused, "is everything okay? I thought we hugged and said hi last night."

"We did," Jasmine responded, still holding him tightly, "but with so many people there, it felt like I was acting or something. It... it didn't feel quite honest because I kept having to watch myself so I didn't give something away. I don't know, I just felt that hugging you now would be for real."

"Well, that's fine with me," Sirius said as he pulled her in a bit tighter. "I'm always up for a hug from my favorite goddaughter. I did miss you a lot." He then reached over and pulled Hermione into the embrace as well. "I missed you too, Hermione. I can't begin to tell you how worried I was when the call came in from Dumbledore for all available Order members to get over to your house. He couldn't say what was wrong, he just knew something bad had happened, and he couldn't get there himself because he was already dealing with a problem at Jasmine's."

"Thanks, Sirius," she said as she hugged him and Jasmine back. "I think we were safe by the time the Order members got there, but it was nice to have help anyway. Especially a Healer to check on my parents. I wasn't sure what I was going to do to help them.."

"So," Sirius said as he pulled back from them. "I told you last night not to worry about Walburga. She has to keep up the screaming banshee act so no one suspects what might be going on here. Don't try to talk to her, she'll just yell at you and insult you. The same goes for Kreacher and the insults that he mutters… except in his case I'm not always sure how much of an act that really is. Um, let's see… don't forget that all of the portraits in the house are on our side. They are keeping an eye on things and report to me. If there's an emergency, tell one of them, and they'll get word to me or my mother's portrait."

"This is the headquarters for Dumbledore's Order, then?" Jasmine asked. "How did he convince you to let him use your family's old house?"

"You, actually," Sirius answered with a wry grin. "In his letter, he claimed that he needed it to help keep you safe. Of course," he added, his face darkening, "he then refused to let you actually come here — he and I have had several arguments about that, in fact. I suspect he was going to keep you with your relatives until the last minute."

"That won't be a problem anymore," Hermione said. "They kicked her out, so she has nowhere else to go."

"That's great!" Sirius cheered, picking up Jasmine and spinning her around. "As far as I'm concerned, this is now your home." Once he put her back down, he added a little hesitantly, "That's assuming you still want to."

"Of course I do!" she responded, pulling him into another hug. "I wouldn't want to live anywhere else!"

"Good," Sirius said. "This will always be your home, so long as you want to call it that. I'd give you your own room, but for appearances sake you'll have to share with Ginny."

"That's fine," Jasmine replied with a shrug. "I don't mind. Ginny's cool."

"Is there anything else we need to know about the house?" Hermione asked.

Sirius thought for a moment, then said, "This library is probably the best room for you to talk privately. Right now, only people I give permission to can come in here — and that's not many. So you can talk, catch up with each other, study, or whatever. The worst books, though, are in a hidden section that's sealed off, so don't even ask."

"Thanks, Sirius," they said in unison. Jasmine stepped forward to give Sirius another hug while Hermione gazed around hungrily at all the old books she now had access to.

* * *

 **Monday, August 2 ,1995. Afternoon.**

Moira O'Connor raised her eyebrows in surprise when her boss cast several privacy spells on her door after she and Rufus Scrimgeour entered and got seated. Turning to the head of the DMLE, she asked, "Is this what we were waiting for?"

Amelia Bones nodded as she handed over several pieces of parchment to the other two. "Last week two separate tips came in about Sirius Black. The first placed him back in Britain. The second claimed that he was buying books and supplies for dark rituals. Fudge learned about this during the weekly DMLE report to the Minister's Office and demanded that we make finding Black a priority because, and I quote, 'he must be responsible for what happened to Potter.' Due to the changes that have been imposed on us recently, following up on these tips will force us to drop everything else."

"Clever," Rufus said with grudging admiration. "We're forced to direct all resources away from investigating what happened to Potter, but Fudge can claim that we are still working on the case. What's more, he keeps stoking people's fear of Black, making it harder for him to get a fair hearing later on."

"Who brought in the tips?" Moira asked.

"Both were brought to me by Auror John Dawlish, though at separate times," Amelia answered.

"Dawlish's father is friends with Fudge," Rufus observed, "but not close friends."

Moira smiled predatorily and said, "His mother, though, is very, **very** good friends with someone who is close to Fudge." Pausing for dramatic effect, she concluded, "Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge."

Amelia leaned back in her chair. "Ah-ha! That explains it. Yes, I can see her hand in all of this now."

Rufus nodded. "She's almost fanatical in her devotion to tradition, the Ministry, and Fudge personally. This sort of interference is something she'd do, if she thought it were necessary to defend one or more of those."

"Even worse," Moira added, "is that I don't think she has a conscience. I doubt that there's much, if anything, that she won't do in defense of one of those things."

Leaning forward again, Amelia asked her two friends and top advisors, "Have you worked out a way to keep up with other investigations while officially focusing on this? Especially now that we have two new cases to unofficially investigate — the attacks on the Grangers and the Dursleys?"

"I believe so," Moira answered, but before she could continue Rufus put in, "Actually, I think we can do a bit better. I think we can assume that Dawlish will report what's going on to Umbridge. If we keep him busy enough in the hunt for Black, we'll have a bit more resources to divert towards our unofficial investigations."

Amelia smiled. "Good idea. Just be sure to check anyone involved. Dawlish might not be the only informant we have in the department."

"We'll take care of it," Moira said, then she and her colleague left while Amelia spent some time considering the Umbridge problem. She also gave some thought to who else in the DMLE might be slipping confidential information to outside interests.

* * *

After lunch, Jasmine and Hermione spent the rest of the day in a corner of the library, trying to catch up with each other and reconnect. Jasmine laughed at the Grangers' experiences with nude beaches while surrounded by veela, but after a few minutes she started blushing when she thought about doing that with her girlfriend. Hermione, in turn, hugged Jasmine when she heard about how isolated and alone her girlfriend had felt all month. In fact, she had to spend some time reassuring Jasmine that she hadn't been deliberately ignoring her — something Jasmine had known intellectually but still had trouble accepting emotionally under the circumstances.

They both knew it would take a little time for them to get back to where they had been at the end of the previous term, but they were looking forward to being together again, and especially to training together again. The previous evening had been a graphic lesson on how important their training could be, and they vowed to redouble their efforts.

At one point Hermione got the idea of asking their elves to help with the cleaning — she felt a little bad that the two of them weren't helping Ginny and Ron, though not bad enough to give up on her private time with Jasmine. After a few minutes passed without getting a response, the two witches concluded that their elves hadn't returned from their trip yet.

"Oh!" Hermione said abruptly, "Wait here!" She ran out of the library, then came running back a short time later. "This was sent to me in July. I didn't open it, though." She handed Jasmine the packet that she'd received from Gringotts.

Jasmine took a deep breath and steeled herself for what she might find. Slowly, she opened it up and started reading. And reading. And reading.

"Well?" Hermione asked, getting a bit impatient.

"Well..." Jasmine said slowly. "There were a number of accounting irregularities over the years." Hermione sucked in her breath as Jasmine continued, "So they've deposited into my trust vault the fourteen galleons, five sickles, and two knuts that they say they owed me."

"That's it?" Hermione asked.

"Yep," Jasmine said, "Just a few minor errors that added up a bit over the years because no one was paying close enough attention to the family accounts. On the other hand, the goblins are rather annoyed about something else. Apparently due to the lack of direction from anyone, my parents' account sat completely idle. Someone could and should have been recommending investment ideas; without at least some input, they couldn't move on their own. They're calling it 'lost opportunities' for profit — for me and for them, since they'd have taken a cut. Whoever is responsible will not be treated very well by them for a while... and thankfully, that's not me."

"That's odd," Hermione observed. "Muggle banks certainly don't punish you for things like that."

"I guess we'll need to read up on goblin customs and expectations at some point," Jasmine said, "I mean, if we can be punished for simply failing to do something like that... I'd rather avoid it if I can." Hermione simply nodded. "They'd like me to come in at some point to talk about the accounts and possible investments, but there's no rush. They know I'm at school and all. Hmmm... maybe before school, but that might be tough to do."

"Let's wait and see what happens with the hearing at the Ministry before we make any plans to deal with Gringotts," Hermione suggested. Jasmine agreed and set the packet aside so they could talk about other things.

* * *

 **Monday, August 2 ,1995. Evening.**

When the two came down to the kitchen for dinner, Jasmine discovered that the meal had been transformed into a surprise birthday party for her as well. "We're sorry we didn't get a chance to celebrate it with you on the proper day, dear," Molly Weasley said as she gave the green-eyed witch a hug, "But we thought you wouldn't mind doing it again with us."

"Again?" Jasmine said as she tried to wipe a stray tear from her eye. "This is the only time I'll get to celebrate it, so thank you! Thank you so much!"

"You mean your family didn't celebrate your birthday with you this year?" she asked in confusion.

"Of course not," Jasmine answered. "They never have before. And because of Dumbledore, I didn't even get any letters on my birthday this year." She eagerly sat down and began to reach for the serving bowls, not noticing that several of the adults wore concerned expressions.

"Did you find out anything about those letters the girls received?" Lindsey asked Arthur when he finally arrived from work at the Ministry and joined them.

"No," he said, shaking his head, "but that's handled by a different department. I told Albus this morning, and I later saw him several times throughout the day in the Ministry, so I'm sure he's working on it." Accepting the Grangers' thanks with a nod, he continued, "Did you work out things with your detonist practice?"

"Uh, that's dentist," Emma said, "And yes, we were able to make arrangements. Most of the patients today were rescheduled, and we've booked two other dentists to work there for the next couple of weeks while we sort out what we're going to do."

"It may not be safe to go back to work," Sirius said. "If the Death Eaters could find your house, they might be able to find your business, too."

Lindsey nodded. "That's what Emma and I were thinking, but we're not sure what to do about it all. Fortunately our name isn't part of the name of the practice, so the risk should be fairly low — otherwise we'd have to close it entirely, lest we put innocent people in danger."

"Well, no need to worry about it right now," Sirius said. "Let's take care of the birthday girl's presents and be happy for the evening!" Sirius had been giving the Grangers a guided tour of the house for a good chunk of the day, and the three of them had been getting along quite well, so they didn't object to his obvious attempts to lighten the mood.

Jasmine enjoyed all of her presents: some books from Sirius, a broom cleaning kit from the Weasley children, a silk scarf from Fleur, a wicked-looking knife from Gabrielle, and some other interesting things. Her favorite, though, was Hermione's gift of a magically enchanted hair care kit — brush, comb, and mirror. "I got one for myself, too," she admitted. "It helps a lot — and if it helps tame **my** hair, it should do wonders for yours."

"Yeah," Jasmine said as she reached out to gently touch Hermione's brunette locks. "I thought your hair was looking better — sleeker and a bit more relaxed." She smiled and added softly, "It really looks good." Hermione blushed and looked away, and while others didn't think anything odd about the exchange, Emma had been watching it closely.

Before the birthday meal was done, an owl arrived with a letter from a very unexpected person: Fleur Delacour.

"She's staying at the Leaky Cauldron," Jasmine explained to Sirius while Hermione reread the letter which had been addressed to her. "Would it be okay to invite her over? Maybe even stay here, if there's room?" Jasmine had never had much opportunity to practice using puppy-dog eyes, but despite that she was able to use them with devastating effect against Sirius.

"Uh..." he said, "I don't have a problem with that, and there's plenty of room; but this house is under a _Fidelius_ charm, and Dumbledore is the secret keeper. He'll need to agree."

"Why is he the secret keeper?" Hermione asked with a frown. "That gives him veto power over who can and cannot visit your own home. That doesn't make sense."

Sirius sighed. "It's a drawback of the _Fidelius_ charm that the secret keeper can't live in the place that's being hidden — if they could, then one of your parents would have been the secret keeper of their house, Jasmine." The auburn-haired witch slumped a bit at this reminder, and Hermione realized that she should have thought of that. "So I needed to pick someone who wouldn't spend too long here — even an extended visit would put the charm at risk. The best choice was Dumbledore. Not only is he the least likely person to give it up, either voluntarily or under torture, but he already lives in the most secure building in Britain, making him very unlikely to seek a room here."

Hermione and Jasmine both nodded in understanding, then Hermione asked, "But you approve of Fleur coming?" When Sirius said yes, Hermione said to Jasmine, "Then we'll just have to convince the Headmaster when he's here next."

"Depending on how things go at the Ministry," Mr. Weasley said, "he may be here tomorrow. One way or another, he'll want to tell you what you need to do with regards to those letters — you won't be able to return to Hogwarts if you ignore them completely."

"I'll write a quick note to Fleur," Jasmine said, "just to let her know how we are. She sounds worried."

Hermione promptly pulled the quill out of Jasmine's hand. "No, I'll do it. If she has to read your chicken scratch, she'll still be trying to decipher it next week." There were several sniggers around the table as Jasmine pouted and Hermione began to write — and, since it was Hermione, the "quick note" turned into a full recounting of events from the night before, filling several pieces of parchment. Not including endnotes.

* * *

After dinner, Jasmine screwed up her courage to do something that she'd been thinking about all afternoon — ever since Hermione had told her about the conversations she'd been forced to have with her parents about the dangers she'd been hiding from them. _My goal was to help bring them closer together this summer_ , she thought, _but now I find that all the danger I keep putting her in may have made things worse!_

Feeling more than a bit of trepidation, she knocked on the Grangers' bedroom door and soon found herself looking up into the eyes of Mrs. Granger. "Yes?" she asked. "Are you looking for Hermione? I thought she was in the library with you."

"Uh, hello, Mrs. Granger," Jasmine said. "I, uh, actually wanted to talk to you. To you and Mr. Granger."

"Lindsey is off with Sirius," she responded. "But come on in." Once they were both in the room, Emma asked, "What's wrong?"

Taking a deep breath, Jasmine began, "I wanted to apologize to you. For everything. I mean, for all the danger Hermione has been in. I always try to keep her out of it, really I do, but she insists on helping me. Not that I'm not grateful for her help — I mean, I'd probably be dead several times over if it weren't for her, but still, I hate it when she's in danger too, and I know that you're not happy about that. Anyway, I don't want you to be mad at her when it's my fault that things happen…."

Her half-coherent rambling was cut short when Emma stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. "It's alright, dear," she said. "I understand. We don't blame you, especially after you saved us last night." Emma leaned back slightly so she could look down into the young girl's watery green eyes. "We owe you our lives, and I don't think we've thanked you properly for that."

Unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of so much parental affection, Jasmine looked away and mumbled, "It's no big deal, you don't have to…."

"No, none of that, now," Emma said as she reached out with one hand to gently pull Jasmine's face forwards again. "I could see how your relatives treated you," she continued in a very gentle voice, "and they were wrong. It's not your fault we were in danger, and you do deserve our thanks for saving us. We owe you more than we could ever repay. And I can say that I'm very happy that you're with... well, that you're protective of my daughter. She means everything to us."

Jasmine's eyes started to well up as Emma pulled her back into a hug. "Thank you," Jasmine whispered.

They stayed that way for a while, and for the first time that she could remember, she began to understand the value of a mother's hugs.


	7. Moi Lolita

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **A/N 2:** I'm rather fond of the final scene in this chapter — I hope you like it too.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "The Cupboard Under the Stairs" by Stargon1. Harry has been taken out of the cupboard, but that doesn't mean that it's stopped affecting him. This is the first in a series of reimagined Harry Potter books, and it looks like the author intends to go through them all. Enjoyable and worth reading. Eventual H/Hr.

 _Italics_ : a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 07 - Moi... Lolita**

 **Tuesday, August 3, 1995. Morning.**

It was a very weary Albus Dumbledore that floo'd into Grimmauld Place the next morning. He'd been a politician of one sort or another for decades, and while he never truly enjoyed politics for its own sake, he had never before hated politics — and politicians — as much as he did just then. He'd had to spend all day yesterday and half the night at the Ministry trying to accomplish something that should have been simple and just, yet was contrary to the goals of some powerful people.

And he still wasn't very optimistic that matters would work out the way he wanted. _The law will be on our side_ , he thought, _but it was on my side yesterday, and despite all my experience and influence, I was only just barely able to achieve anything. What is becoming of us when having the law on one's side can mean so little?_

He was brought up short and actually stopped halfway to the kitchen when he realized that it was exactly this sort of thing which had been causing Jasmine Potter to consider abandoning Britain. He slumped a little at the thought that far from being good news, the information he had to convey might only fuel the apathy and distrust which Arthur told him she'd expressed the day before.

 _We still need her to defeat Tom_ , he thought, _not to mention become one of the leaders of our world for the coming century, but it will be harder to convince her to stay when I actually agree with her complaints! I'm simply going to have to come up with much better reasons for her to stay, if her desire to leave starts to grow serious._

Dumbledore took a moment to gather himself, then strode into the kitchen as if nothing were amiss — though if anyone were paying close attention, they might have noticed that he sat rather heavily in his chair and still had more than a bit of weariness around his eyes.

He greeted everyone jovially, though, and accepted a cup of tea from Mrs. Weasley while politely declining her offer of a full breakfast. Several of those seated around the table were looking at him expectantly, but he noticed that both of the two young witches he had come to talk about were directing rather cold expressions at him.

"What's the word on our daughter and Jasmine?" Lindsey prompted.

"I've managed to get them to put off an immediate expulsion," Dumbledore answered. "It was much more difficult than I had expected. On the 13th there will be a hearing about their use of magic, and that comes with a risk of expulsion, but the law is firmly on their side."

"What do we need to do to prepare?" Emma asked. "Do we need a barrister? I'm not sure how we'd even go about getting a magical barrister..."

"I will take care of representing their interests at the hearing," Dumbledore promised them. "I may not be Chief Warlock anymore, but I still have some influence left and quite a bit more knowledge of the law than most. I will do all I can to defend them." That reassured the elder Grangers somewhat, though not nearly as much as he had hoped, and it didn't seem to impress the two young witches at all. This suggested that Miss Potter and Miss Granger's distrust had been extended to the Granger parents, which wasn't encouraging.

"I'd invite you to come as well," Dumbledore continued, "but muggles are only very rarely permitted in the Ministry of Magic. An old discriminatory practice that I've never been able to get changed, I'm afraid." Perhaps such efforts would help them see him more as an ally?

The Grangers frowned but nodded. "Why aren't you Chief Warlock anymore?" Lindsey asked.

"Our Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, has been pushing a political and social campaign against me," Dumbledore explained. "He believes me to be a threat to him, his power, and the Ministry as a whole. About a week ago he had me removed from both that position and from my post as Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. Fortunately he cannot remove me as Headmaster of Hogwarts — at least, not yet. I'm certain that he's working on that as well. He also hasn't managed to get my chocolate frog card recalled." The last was said with a slight smile, though few returned it.

"And it's not just Dumbledore who's being targeted," Arthur added after a moment. "Fudge is behind the articles in the _Daily Prophet_ that are attacking Jasmine, too."

"Articles?" Jasmine asked in confusion.

"Attacks?" Hermione said sharply at the same time.

"Oh, right," Sirius put in, somewhat abashed. "I meant to tell you about them, but so much has been happening. I've got a stack of back issues of the _Daily Prophet_ to show you later. Suffice it to say, your name keeps coming up in various articles and editorials, and never in a good way."

"It started small," Arthur said, "but the animosity has been growing steadily. Almost every day, in fact. Now there's hardly a single page without some sort of snide reference to one or both of you."

"And I'll bet lots of people in magical Britain are starting to believe it, aren't they?" Hermione asked. No one said anything, but the embarrassed expressions on several faces were answer enough.

"Second year all over again," Jasmine muttered as Hermione gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"Before I forget," Dumbledore said to Hermione in an effort to change the topic, "I owe you and your parents an apology. Late last term I erected a few basic wards around your home — wards to alert me of magical trouble, to discourage anyone who might wish you harm, that sort of thing. I couldn't do anything elaborate because of the lack of ambient magic around muggle homes. I didn't know of any specific threats against you, but I wanted you to have at least some basic security. Unfortunately, I waited too long to check back, and the magic in the wards dissipated, leaving you without that protection. I am very, very sorry about that. Only the ward that I set to warn me about problems seems to have survived in any way, and even that didn't do as much good as it should have because not long after it went off, I was distracted by dealing with what was happening at Miss Potter's house. That delayed my sending help to you."

The young witch's expression had darkened as he confessed his lapse, and she looked like she was about to say something, but then apparently thought better of it. Her eyes looked a bit haunted when she finally did speak.

"That's alright, Professor Dumbledore," she said, "I appreciate that you tried. And you did help, I think, because shortly before they entered the house I heard what I thought was a distant gong sounding. It made me suspicious, so I drew my wand and still had it out when they attacked. If I hadn't had it out, they'd have taken me down immediately. You gave me a fighting chance, and I appreciate that."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful at that news. "Yes, I think that must have been the alarm ward falling just after it notified me that there was a problem. I'm glad that it proved useful to you before it fell, but when I received the alert I wasn't even sure it was genuine, it was so weak."

"Speaking of wards," Jasmine said coolly, her eyes narrowing, "why didn't those vaunted blood wards keep the dementors out?"

Dumbledore sighed and removed his spectacles to rub at his eyes. "I'm afraid that they were far weaker than I had realized."

"Does that mean anyone could have gotten in to get her?" Sirius asked, obviously angry. "Even Death Eaters?"

"No, no," Dumbledore assured him. "Even at their weakest, they would have at least slowed, if not prevented, dark witches or wizards. No, dementors are... an unusual case. I've been trying to work out what happened ever since we picked Miss Potter up, and I finally remembered that no one knows if they are entirely sentient or feel emotions. If they were only looking to feed like any hungry animal, then the weakened blood wards would not have recognized them as having 'ill intent.' After all, they didn't have anything personal against Miss Potter or her relatives, though I know that's not comforting."

"I guess a rabid dog or hungry wolf would have been able to enter and harm me as well," Jasmine said. "What about the other wards you said you put up?"

"Before I put wards around Miss Granger's house, I reinforced the wards at your relatives' home, Miss Potter. One of the most important things I did was bolster the protections against you being found magically, or indeed in any fashion by anyone magical. That's one of the primary functions of the blood wards and why they were so successful in protecting you before you came to Hogwarts. Given the increased danger to you, I wanted to ensure that you continued to be as safe now as you were then."

"That's why I didn't get any mail this summer, isn't it?" Jasmine asked, her anger unmistakable.

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm afraid so — I didn't want to introduce any weaknesses into your protections that your enemies might have been able to exploit. Some things were blocked entirely, others redirected. Normally that would have prevented even non-sentient magical creatures from locating you. However, if someone else was involved — someone with the ability to find you, but who didn't intend to actually seek you out..."

"Because magic is all about intent," Hermione interrupted.

"Indeed, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "You can see now the flaw that I inadvertently allowed to develop. One malicious person who did not intend to contact Miss Potter or to do her any harm **personally** was able to discover her address — perhaps inside the Ministry, which of course has ancient and powerful magic at its disposal — then send along two creatures who bore Miss Potter no personal ill will... creatures able to slip through the weakened wards."

"And what about the other protections you said you put up?" Jasmine asked, sounding just slightly less angry now.

"After the time you'd been there so far this summer, the blood wards should have been in good shape," Dumbledore answered. "From what I could still detect before I left, though, it seems that they were not only growing ever weaker, but were in fact sapping the strength of some of the other wards in order to keep themselves active. In retrospect, I probably should have checked for that sooner."

"Why would that happen?" Hermione asked.

"I'm afraid I haven't come to any conclusions, Miss Granger. The blood-based protections should have remained strong so long as Miss Potter called that house her home," Dumbledore started, but Jasmine interrupted him.

"I haven't ever really considered it home," she informed him bitterly. "I've never, ever felt welcome or happy there. Honestly, ever since my first year, I've always thought of Hogwarts as my only real home. I even said as much to Ron and Hermione just before we left at the end of that year."

Dumbledore looked surprised. "Well, your loyalty to the school is quite commendable, and I suspect that played a role in the long, slow decline of the blood wards. I get the impression that there wasn't very much love in the household either, am I correct?"

Jasmine snorted derisively. "Not between me and the Dursleys. Not any, not ever. They hate me and I return the sentiment. I suppose they love each other, though with the way they act, I wouldn't want any part of love if that's all there was to it." Dumbledore closed his eyes in a moment of despair, so he didn't see the meaningful look Jasmine gave Hermione. Nor did he see the looks he was getting from the adults in the room.

"I can't imagine anyone ever thinking them fit enough to raise a hamster, never mind a child," Jasmine concluded.

Everyone was quiet for a few moments before Dumbledore decided that it might be best if he excused himself for a meeting at the Ministry in London. "Oh, we almost forgot," Hermione said to him as he was standing from his chair, "our friend Fleur Delacour is in London. She arrived last night and is looking for a job. We'd like to invite her over — to visit, at least, if not stay — and Sirius is fine with it, but he said that she'd need to get the secret from you first."

Dumbledore frowned slightly. Although he had nothing against veela personally, their allure was well-known for the problems it created, none of which they could afford to have at the headquarters of the fight against Voldemort.

"Although Miss Delacour proved herself to be a capable champion," Dumbledore responded carefully, "and I'm sure that she is a fine young witch, I'd prefer that as few people as possible know about this location. Those told the secret cannot spread it, but the more who know about it, the more likely it is that the enemy will learn that a hidden location exists, and that would complicate our security. The _Fidelius_ charm is not perfect, and we shouldn't act as though it were."

"I understand, Professor," Jasmine said with strained politeness, "but I've trusted Fleur with my life and would do so again. Either of us could have seriously harmed or killed the other during the second and third tasks, but we didn't. We worked together and we protected each other. I owe her a lot."

"Also," Hermione chimed in, "my parents and I spent time with her and her family while we were in France. They went so far as to provide security for us while we were there, without our even asking. I'm completely convinced that we can trust her to stand with us and fight if something happens."

"That makes her knowing the secret an asset, not a liability, doesn't it?" Sirius asked.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows slightly at this news. He hadn't realized that they were all close enough to generate this sort of impassioned plea — he had assumed that their relationship was more casual than that. _I'd rather not introduce the complications of veela allure to this house,_ he considered, _but if she can hold it in sufficiently, then it would be a relatively minor concession. They are clearly upset with me, and just saying no will surely make things worse between us._

"But what of you, Sirius?" he asked. "She might have a problem sharing a house with a man she believes to be an escaped murderer."

"She was there when we brought in Pettigrew," Jasmine pointed out. "So she knows the truth, even if Sirius hasn't been formally cleared."

"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten about that," Dumbledore conceded.

"She certainly isn't fond of our Ministry, given its discrimination against veela," Hermione added, "so she'd not likely take their side against us."

Dumbledore stroked his beard for a moment, then nodded gravely. "I can see the wisdom in your words, Miss Potter and Miss Granger. You make a good point too, Sirius. I will ask Alastor to meet her — where is she?"

"She's staying at the Leaky Cauldron," Hermione said.

"Alright, I'll have him meet her in the Leaky Cauldron and bring her here," Dumbledore continued. "Just don't take this to mean that I will agree to all of your school friends learning of this location." Both younger witches nodded in acceptance of that, and Hermione immediately got to work on a letter to let Fleur know what was planned.

After that, she decided to act on Dumbledore's inadvertent reminder and started working on short letters to all their friends, letting them know that she was with Jasmine now, what had happened in the attacks, and how they were required to attend a hearing in the Ministry about their use of magic outside of school — a hearing which might see them expelled from Hogwarts entirely.

* * *

 **Tuesday, August 3, 1995. Noon.**

Dumbledore returned to headquarters for lunch because he wanted to be there when Fleur Delacour arrived. He had never really gotten to know her personally, and if she was close to Jasmine Potter, he thought he should probably rectify that. It would also allow him to gauge how her allure might affect others in the house, giving him a chance to act quickly if it got too bad.

The first thing he noticed after she entered with Mad-Eye Moody was how warm and sincere her hugs were with everyone, including the elder Grangers. _If I'm not mistaken, there is a lot of genuine affection there_ , he thought. _The witches in particular all act like they've been close for years rather than merely acquainted for a few months. Could it be something about the veela nature or veela allure that's encouraging the development of such fast friendships? No, that's unlikely — if that sort of thing happened, I'm sure I'd have read about it. There must be something else going on..._

The second thing he noticed was the way she moved: it was more like an auror than a student. _She's clearly had good defense training — and physical defense, too, not just with a wand_. Looking over at Moody, he could tell that his old friend had noticed the same things and was treating her with the appropriate wariness. _Coming from him_ , Dumbledore mused, _that's quite a compliment._

"Intruders! Betrayers!" came a screeching voice from the hall as the curtains in front of Walburga Black's portrait flew open. Dumbledore winced as she continued, "Blood Traitors, Mudbloods, and half-breeds are defiling the home of the Ancient and Noble House of Black!"

"Sorry, sorry," Sirius mumbled in apology as he raced for the portrait.

"What's this?" Walburga demanded. "Who brought this foul creature in here? Kreacher! Attend me! Come clear out this filth before they defile our—" Sirius managed to shut the curtains before the diatribe could continue.

"I apologize for that," Sirius said more formally now to Fleur. "That harridan was my mother, and... well, she doesn't much like any of us." Fleur smiled in sympathy and shook Sirius' hand.

It was only when everyone was seated for lunch that Dumbledore realized that he hadn't detected any allure from her — nothing was affecting him or anyone else. _How very interesting_ , he thought as he observed the others in the room carefully. _I didn't see her much outside of meals while she was at Hogwarts, but I don't think her control was this good even then._

Fleur immediately asked the Grangers how they were holding up and what their plans were. When they admitted that they weren't sure what to do next because they had nowhere to go and didn't want to give up their business, she replied, "I wrote my mother after I read Hermione's letter. She may be able to offer you sanctuary in France — possibly even somewhere you can continue with your jobs."

"Really?" Emma asked, hope in her eyes but skepticism clear in her tone.

"Yes," Fleur said confidently. "Zere are veela enclaves all over, and many are close enough to muggle areas zat you can live very near to both. It should be possible to place you somewhere you can work as dentists."

Dumbledore listened to their discussion while observing the reactions of the young Weasleys to the veela witch. He noted that the twins kept sneaking glances at her, but they didn't appear to be overtly affected. The oldest, William, was giving her much longer, lingering looks that suggested interest, but he didn't seem to be mentally compromised. Ronald, in contrast... well, it was hard to tell with him. Maybe he was being affected by her allure, or maybe this was just how he was around very beautiful witches. _I probably shouldn't give too much weight to his reactions_ , Dumbledore concluded.

"That... that would be amazing, if your family could help," Lindsey said. "We'd still have to talk about it, of course, because we honestly hadn't even considered something like that, but even just the possibility would ease our minds." Fleur nodded and smiled warmly at that.

Dumbledore's mind raced with the implications of her offer. He didn't know much about the internal politics of the veela, but he doubted that they'd offer to help just anyone relocate somewhere near a veela enclave, much less with their protection as well. This meant that the Granger family must have made a very, very good impression on them indeed. The veela were extremely insular and weren't known to go out of their way to help anyone, never mind muggles.

"What are your plans in Britain, Miss Delacour?" Dumbledore asked. The French champion was turning out to be much more interesting than he had imagined.

"Right now I am looking for a job," she answered. "I would like to improve my English and magical skills."

"Your English is already a lot better than when we first met," Hermione said.

"Thank you," Fleur responded carefully with a smile. "I have been practicing very hard."

"And what sort of job do you hope to get?" Dumbledore continued. "What were your test scores like?"

"I took ze French NEWTs after I returned from Hogwarts and received Outstandings in Charms, Transfiguration, Runes, Arithmancy, and Defense. I received E in Potions, and Acceptables in Astronomy, Herbology, and History." Dumbledore nodded, impressed by those scores — especially after having spent a year working on the tournament. "My strongest subjects were Defense and Charms," she continued, "zough Runes came close. I zought about working as an apprentice curse breaker, but I zink Gringotts would send me abroad, and I'd prefer to stay here for a few years."

The rest of the meal passed with an animated discussion about working in Britain, with comparisons of different jobs and how well a person really needed to do in school in order to pursue different careers. By the end, Dumbledore was more than satisfied that the young veela posed no danger to the household, so he got up to take his leave.

As he headed to the floo, Mad-Eye Moody stopped him in the hall. "Are you still looking for a Defense professor for the coming term?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, then asked hopefully, "Have you reconsidered accepting my offer to actually be the one to teach this time?"

"Not a chance," Moody said with a scowl, "I'm needed too much on the outside, working against Death Eaters, not wiping noses and arses in your school. But I did want to suggest that you consider that Delacour witch."

Dumbledore frowned. "She strikes me as a bit young for such a position. She only just took her NEWTs, after all."

"Aye, the lass is young," Moody agreed, "but I was watching her carefully, and she's no wet-behind-the-ears naif. She's got skills and training — maybe not a lot of experience yet, but definitely skills and training. I could tell by the way she walked and how she looked around a room." Dumbledore nodded, having reached a similar conclusion himself.

"You don't think that her being a veela would cause problems?" Dumbledore asked, curious about the old auror's perspective.

"Depends on what you mean by problems," he answered. "If you're wondering about her accidentally bewitching the lads at school with her allure, I wouldn't worry about it. I've been keeping an eye on that, and she has it under control — better than most I've seen. If you're worried about others' negative reactions, well..." He shrugged. "There's not much you can do about that." Dumbledore nodded, remembering how many of his past choices had aroused the ire of this or that group.

"Besides," Moody continued, "she couldn't be worse than most of the mutts you've gotten for that post — Lupin excepted — and she's got to be better than whatever stooge the Ministry will saddle you with if you don't find someone. When's that deadline?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I have until the tenth of this month to find a suitable candidate for the post of Defense Professor or the Ministry will exercise its authority to choose for me."

Moody nodded curtly. "I suspect you could do a lot worse than her," he observed before turning around and stumping back into the kitchen. Dumbledore stood in front of the floo for some time, pondering his old friend's words.

* * *

Once Jasmine and Hermione had convinced Sirius to grant Fleur full access to the library — not an easy task, even with Jasmine fully deploying her puppy-dog eyes — the three witches spent the rest of the day there so they could research magical law in Britain. Their focus was, naturally, any and all laws dealing with underage magic and self-defense. Jasmine may have started out apathetic about the problem, but she wasn't going to let anyone take magic away from her or Hermione without a fight.

Sirius certainly understood the feeling — he himself was already thinking about alternatives, like how to get them out of the country if things went badly.

While adjusting the library's wards to admit Fleur, Sirius pointed out two portraits of Blacks who had worked in law and politics and who might be able to help. They were hanging on the back wall where they were largely out of sight, which explained why Jasmine and Hermione hadn't noticed them earlier.

When they asked about privacy and security, Sirius assured them once again that the portraits were all working in their best interests and were under orders not to disclose any secrets to anyone outside the family without Sirius' express permission. In order to placate them, however, he ordered the two library portraits not to reveal any of the girls' secrets to any person, not even to him, unless the girls gave their own permission.

Mrs. Weasley of course still wanted them to pitch in to help with the cleaning, but they successfully argued that they had to spend time preparing for their hearing — even though Dumbledore was representing them, they needed to know as much as possible so they could assist. The fact that Emma and Lindsey supported this decision certainly helped: the Grangers believed that one should avoid being completely reliant on a single person or strategy — something that Mrs. Weasley had trouble accepting, given her feelings about Albus Dumbledore, but eventually she relented.

First, though, she took Hermione aside and apologized for what she had done the previous Easter. Her children had taken her to task earlier in the summer for insulting Hermione on the basis of Skeeter's article, and when confronted with the truth, she felt mortified. The insult still stung Hermione a bit, but the older witch's apology was clearly sincere, so she accepted it so they could all move on.

* * *

 **Wednesday, August 4, 1995. Morning.**

Albus Dumbledore noted everyone's surprise when he arrived for breakfast the following morning. It was unusual for him to join them two days in a row like that, but it was an unusual situation. He was glad to see that it was a smaller crowd than had been gathered around the kitchen table the day before — news would get around quickly enough, he was sure, but he didn't want to spend all morning answering questions.

Once he'd been given a cup of tea by Mrs. Weasley, he turned to the young witches who were lined up on one side of the long table and asked, "Miss Delacour? If you are still looking for a job, I might be able to help you, and in turn you'd be able to help me as well."

Dumbledore noted a very brief flash of suspicion on her face before she replied, "Oui, Headmaster, I have not found anything since yesterday."

He nodded and said, "I have yet to find someone to fill the position of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and it's getting quite a bit later than usual for me to still be without any qualified candidates. I'd like to offer you the position, and if you accept it will help both me and the school a great deal." Dumbledore watched as expressions of surprise, gratitude, and curiosity all passed across the young witch's face. He also noticed the identical grins that appeared on the Weasley twins' faces.

"Zat is... very generous. And surprising," she said slowly. "Why me, zough?"

Dumbledore smiled and said, "I'll be frank and admit that under normal circumstances I wouldn't consider someone as young and inexperienced as you, despite your obviously high qualifications. These are not normal circumstances, however. I have trouble every year finding someone to fill this position, and it seems that the task keeps getting harder and harder. If I don't find someone soon, the Ministry will exercise their authority to choose for me, and that is not something that I want to see happen, especially considering their recent propaganda campaign against both me and Miss Potter."

Dumbledore noted her frown when he mentioned the Ministry and was happy to see that she shared his concerns there. He leaned forward a bit to add, "Nevertheless, while you may not be the **ideal** candidate, you are by no means a **poor** candidate, and you are in fact better than some whom I've had to hire in the past." From somewhere down the table he heard a cough that sounded suspiciously like "Lockhart," but he chose to ignore it. That was not a decision he wanted to revisit. Ever.

"Oh, Albus," Molly Weasley fretted as she brought him some food, "are you sure about that? Do you really think it wise to let... I mean, won't you get a lot of complaints if someone like... you know, teaches at Hogwarts?" She gestured towards the now-scowling witch and whispered, "She's French!"

Dumbledore sighed. He'd been wondering what would cause the most grumbling: that she was young, that she was a veela, or simply that she was French. _Maybe I should talk to the twins before I leave about setting up a betting pool?_

"I don't deny that there will be complaints, especially due to her age and experience," he replied firmly to the older witch, trying to focus on the things that were actually relevant. "That said, Molly, I made a point of getting copies of her school records, and not only were her scores as good as she claimed yesterday, but she received glowing recommendations from all of her professors." Mrs. Weasley wilted slightly under his stern gaze before he returned his attention to the young veela in question. "Your age, nationality, and heritage are all reasons people will use to send me howlers, there's no denying it; but I'll get howlers regardless — it comes with my job and protecting you from them is my responsibility. Please don't let that dissuade you from accepting the position."

He didn't mention that her being French and veela came with potential advantages for him, too — namely, that hiring her might placate the French Ministry and veela leaders, at least a little bit. _A year without them on my back would be nice,_ he thought. _It might also win back some trust from Miss Potter and Miss Granger._

Remus Lupin chimed in to say, "If it will help in your decision, I still have all of my notes from when I taught that course. I can give them to you and answer any questions you may have. Over the next month, we can make sure you are well prepared." Dumbledore was surprised at the cool reception that offer received and wondered what the reasons might be.

Fleur sat in obvious thought for a bit while Dumbledore continued to calmly sip his tea. Everyone else at the table remained silent, waiting anxiously to hear the witch's answer. Truth be told, he was anxious, too, but he had long ago learned the value of maintaining at least a facade of calm serenity, whatever the situation.

Finally, she answered, "I am very interested, Headmaster, but I would have to read ze contract before giving you my final answer." Dumbledore nodded, accepting that as reasonable. "Also, I have one request which would make it easier for me to accept."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in curiosity, and she continued, "I received a letter from home zis morning with information for ze Grangers about moving to France. In it, my maman mentioned that my cousin, Victoire, will not be able to help my sister Gabrielle for her first year at Beauxbatons. Zis is a problem because for younger veela going through maturation, it is much easier if zere eez an older veela nearby, preferably a relative. If Gabrielle were to attend Hogwarts as a fourth-year student, however, I could be close enough to help."

"I wasn't aware of that requirement," Dumbledore responded slowly.

Fleur shrugged. "It is not so much a requirement as just very helpful. I know zat I would have had a much harder time at Beauxbatons without another cousin of mine being zere to ask questions of, to talk to, zat sort of zing."

Dumbledore nodded slowly and said, "Yes, I can see where that might help, given the unusual magics of veela. I am concerned, though, about the effect your sister might have on the male students."

"Oh, zat should not be a problem," she replied with a smile. "In my family we learn to control ze allure very young. Zat is one reason why we are home-schooled for so long and only enter in our fourth year — to ensure that we have enough control zat we do not disrupt ze classes. I had some difficulty early on at Hogwarts because of ze cold, unfamiliar environment, but I quickly adapted and only had a couple of incidents. It should be easier for Gabrielle because she's already been zere and has spent much time with some of ze students already."

Dumbledore nodded again. "Very well, assuming that she takes the necessary entrance exams and that her scores are high enough, I will ensure that she joins the other fourth-years in September. I must caution you, however, that she is likely to face more than a little bit of prejudice. The staff will be taking a harder line on bullying than we did in the past, but however much I personally abhor prejudice against groups like the veela, I cannot completely eliminate it. You and she must both be prepared for that."

Fleur sat a bit straighter and said, "Zat will not be a problem, either. I can assure you zat neither of us are looking for special treatment because of our veela heritage. So long as ze rules are fair, we will both be fine."

Dumbledore smiled at hearing that and promised to have a contract sent over the next day. "If you sign it, I will receive a copy automatically and take that as your acceptance of the position. I just ask that you make your decision before the end of the day tomorrow so I can continue my search if necessary."

Fleur nodded, and after a few more pleasantries were exchanged Dumbledore returned to the castle to prepare an attractive contract. He was confident that she'd say yes, but he didn't want to lose her at the last minute because of a disagreement over contractual provisions.

 _Now, if she does accept_ , he wondered as he sat down at his desk, _how do I tell Severus that a French veela witch who only just graduated got the job instead of him?_

* * *

 **Wednesday, August 4, 1995. Afternoon.**

Moving to France was a big step, but in the end it was hardly any decision at all. Emma and Lindsey Granger both loved France, and not just for the beaches. Many of their vacations had been spent in France, and that was also where they had gone for their honeymoon. They'd never thought it possible that they might be able to live and work there, so the offer to do so was incredibly attractive.

Added to that was the obvious fact that they'd be protected from the magical terrorists who were likely to soon become active in Britain. Terrorism of any sort was difficult enough to deal with, but by now it was all too clear that they had no way to protect themselves against magic. In France, however, they'd have the protection of other magical people.

So accepting the offer from Fleur's mother turned out to be the easy part. Figuring out how they'd move their most important possessions and how they'd be able to afford to hire replacement dentists until they could get jobs in France... that would be much harder.

* * *

 **Wednesday, August 4, 1995. Evening.**

"So, spill," Tracey said as she sat cross-legged in her pyjamas on the bed. "What was so important that you practically demanded that I come sleep over tonight? Miss me that much?" The last was said with a cheeky grin that was born from years of teasing her best friend.

Daphne rolled her eyes, then after a moment's hesitation asked, "Did you, um, well... did you, you know, develop at all last term?"

"Develop?" Tracey asked, confused.

"Yeah, you know, physically," Daphne said.

"Oh, Merlin, yes!" Tracey said happily. She looked down at her chest and grabbed her breasts with both hands. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for these? I was afraid I'd never get them! And then this last term was the absolute **worst** because we spent so much time hanging around Susan — she's so lucky, I **totally** hate her."

When Tracey looked up, she noticed a very worried look on Daphne's face rather than the happy one she'd expected. "What's the matter, Daph?"

"Well," Daphne responded, "I... oh, for Merlin's sake, could you stop fondling yourself? I know you're happy to get them, but really!"

"Sorry," Tracey said with a grin as she let go of herself, clearly not the least bit remorseful.

"Anyway," Daphne said with an exasperated sigh, "I did, too. Develop that is."

"That's great!" Tracey said, reaching out to give her friend a congratulatory hug. When Daphne didn't move to return the hug, she dropped her arms in confusion. "That **is** great, right?"

"Yes and no," Daphne responded. "Do you remember **when** you began to develop?"

Tracey considered that. "Uh, it was late in the term. Very late, in fact. I remember thinking on the Hogwarts Express that I was glad that it didn't start until the very end because then I could be home when I needed to get new clothes. I didn't want to start busting out all over, y'know? Why?"

"The same was true of me," Daphne said. "I didn't really think about it until Astoria said something about how late in the term I changed. And how fast. Then I got to thinking about it and I realized that the timing was suspicious. So I wrote a couple of letters." Daphne reached under her pillow and pulled out several pieces of parchment. "Susan, Hannah, and Padma all report the same changes at the same time. Padma, of course, was able to pinpoint it fairly precisely: immediately after the Midsummer's Eve ritual. The next day, in fact. I think that something about the magic we experienced that night affected us."

Tracey sat there and gaped at her best friend. Then she looked down at her chest and grabbed her breasts again. "You mean, these are magical? I've got magical boobs?"

"Tracey! Focus! This isn't just about your boobs!" Daphne grated. This caused Tracey to look up and pout slightly before releasing her chest again. "We've all grown a little taller. We're all a little stronger. We've also all developed in our hips and chests."

"And this is from the ritual we all participated in?" Tracey asked. "Do you think Jasmine and Hermione knew it would happen?"

Daphne frowned for a moment, then said, "No, I really don't think so. They wouldn't have kept that from us."

"So maybe they're experiencing the same thing?" Tracey suggested. "They participated in a couple of more rituals and started earlier than us, so they would have had this happening to them over a longer period of time. They might not have even made the connection!"

Daphne nodded. "Good point. I'd like to ask them about it, but given the problems they've been having, I'd rather not risk saying anything in a letter. It was hard enough coming up with something vague to ask the others."

"We can just wait until the Hogwarts Express," Tracey said with a shrug. "One of the compartments should provide enough privacy."

"Maybe we can get everyone together then," Daphne suggested. "It'll be a tight fit, but it doesn't have to be for very long."

With that settled, Tracey pulled open her collar and peered down her nightshirt speculatively. "Do you think that if we do another holiday ritual, they'll grow even more?"

"Tracey!"


	8. Venus

**A/N:** This is a chapter that I know a lot of you have been waiting for...

 **A/N 2:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Coffee Shop Girl" by Mystic25. This story depicts the thoughts and reactions of a couple of waitresses in a coffee shop as they watch Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Short and sweet — I highly recommend it. H/Hr.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 08 - Venus**

 **Thursday, August 5, 1995. Morning.**

"Ron?" Ginny asked as she finished her breakfast. "Since we can send and receive owls here, I've written a letter to Neville. Is it okay if I use Pig to send it?"

Ron's brow furrowed, and it looked like he was going to say no before he stopped and got a surprised look on his face. "What?" Ginny asked, clearly having already prepared herself for an argument.

Ron sighed and looked down sheepishly at his half-finished second helping of breakfast. "I owe Luna a reply to her last letter, and I keep forgetting to write it."

"Luna?" one of the twins asked with undisguised interest.

"Does our ickle Ronnikins have a girlfriend, finally?" the second twin asked in a sing-song voice.

"It's not like that!" Ron said as his face started turning red. "We're just friends! She's... nice."

"Don't listen to them," Jasmine said forcefully as she clapped Ron on the shoulder. "I think it's great that you're friendly with Luna. She looked like she could use a good friend."

Ron straightened a bit at that vote of confidence, then a bit more when Hermione added, "I agree, I think it's great. Please say 'hi' to her from the two of us when you write, will you?"

"Actually, I really should write to her as well," Ginny said. "Thanks for reminding me, Ron. And thanks for writing to her, too — I appreciate it. Is it alright if I send my letter to her with yours?" At Ron's nod, she continued, "Great, I'll get right on it." The other two witches noticed the glint in Ginny's eyes and recognized that she was using the opportunity to not only hurry Ron along in his letter writing, but to gain access to Pig as well. Not for the first time, Jasmine wondered if the Sorting Hat had first suggested Slytherin to Ginny as it had for her.

She didn't really have time to think about it, though, because she was so worried about the hearing she and Hermione were going to face the following Friday. She, Hermione, and Fleur spent most of the day on Thursday once again learning what they could about wizarding law. No matter how optimistic they tried to be that the law was on their side, though, it was hard to forget that the Minister of Magic was personally against them. Who knew what kind of political forces he might bring to bear?

* * *

 **Thursday, August 5, 1995. Late Morning.**

When Sirius walked into the library after breakfast, he was impressed with how much effort the three witches were putting into their legal research. He knew that a lot of people would have simply put their trust in Dumbledore and then left it all in his hands, but none of these three were prepared to do that.

"We just received a package from Dumbledore," he announced, getting their attention. "It's addressed to you, Fleur, so I assume it's about the Defense position." He watched as she opened it, revealing a detailed contract as well as what appeared to be quite a bit of information about the privileges and responsibilities that went along with being a member of staff at Hogwarts.

"So, Hermione," he said, turning to the bushy-haired witch, "how do you feel about your parents' decision yesterday to move to France?"

Hermione smiled a little sadly. "A bit mixed, actually. I'm sorry that they'll be so far away, but I'm mostly happy that they'll be safe and with people who will take care of them. At least we'll have most of the rest of the month together." Fleur looked up from her reading for a moment to smile and gave Hermione's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"How do you think your father will handle being around so many veela?" Sirius asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"I'll have you know," Hermione said primly, "that my father can throw off the allure of even multiple veela."

"What?" Sirius exclaimed, shocked.

"Multiple naked veela," she added.

"N-n-naked?" Sirius stammered, now completely gobsmacked. The allure of multiple naked veela was so strong that the mere thought of them was giving him the urge to transform into Padfoot and start humping something.

"Oui," Fleur said with a laugh. "Ze Grangers vacationed at a nude beach in France, and several of my friends and family joined zem. Zere were... how many?" She looked at Hermione, trying to remember how many had been around. "Between ten and twelve, I zink, depending on ze day."

"A dozen veela?" Sirius asked, feeling himself start to drool a little. "Naked? Nude beach?"

"My father is a happily married man," Hermione asserted. "So as attractive as veela are — yes, even naked veela — they don't really tempt him."

"That's a good point," Sirius said as he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "Your mother is pretty—"

"Don't even **think** about finishing that sentence," Hermione warned.

"Pretty!" Sirius said, holding up his hands. "That's all I was going to say! Pretty! Even Mooney agrees!"

"Right," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. " **Anyway**... even with help from Fleur's family, dealing with the practice will be difficult. They think they'll be able to get a couple of temporary dentists to fill in for the short term, but it will take a bit to find some who would be willing to do the job long-term — a year or more. Or maybe a series of short-term replacements, but they don't like the uncertainty of that." Hermione sighed. "Whatever happens, it'll cost money, and they won't be able to afford it for very long if they don't get work soon in France."

Sirius understood almost none of that, since he didn't even really know what a dentist was. He did, however, have an excellent understanding of "it'll cost money" and "won't be able to afford it."

"Tell them I'll be happy to help out with the finances," Sirius said. "I don't know what a dentist costs, but I'm sure I can afford to buy one or two. I can help pay for their moving costs as well."

"Oh, that's really generous of you," Hermione protested, "but you don't have to—"

"No, no, it's the least I can do," Sirius insisted. "You've been such a big part of Jasmine's life, and you've helped her out so much when I couldn't, that I feel I owe you and your parents." Sirius grinned and added, "Besides, I can't think of a better use of old Black family gold than to help the muggle parents of a muggleborn witch keep their muggle business while being hunted by pureblood bigots."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at that. "You'll have to convince my parents," she cautioned, "but thank you. If you can do that, it'll give them more time to get settled in France."

Sirius nodded, certain that he'd be able to charm the Grangers into accepting his offer. Maybe he could finagle helping with the move, especially if there were naked veela at the other end. Or clothed veela — he wasn't all that picky. Not after more than a decade in Azkaban.

"Speaking of Professor Lupin," Jasmine said, turning to Hermione, "you never did explain what happened that caused him to say he was disappointed in you." She didn't notice Sirius go still, but Fleur did, and she stopped reading the contract to pay attention.

Hermione sighed. "You know that I kept trying to contact you all summer, and even tried to visit more than once. I told you about the car incident, and how I was stopped by guards the other two times." She paused, and she seemed to Sirius to be steeling herself; judging from Jasmine's deepening frown, that was probably a good idea. "What I **didn't** tell you… is that the first guard was Remus, and that he was disappointed in me for going against the Headmaster's orders. When I still wouldn't leave, he stunned me and took me home. The second guard stunned me without warning as soon as I reached the house, but I have no idea who that was."

"They what?!" Jasmine practically shouted as she half-stood from her chair. Hermione quickly grabbed one of her hands while Fleur grabbed the other, trying to hold her back. Sirius took a step back, not surprised by her anger but a bit alarmed at the amount of magic that seemed to be roiling around her.

"They attacked you just for trying to visit me?" Jasmine cried out. "Where are they?"

When the shelves started to shake, Sirius wondered if it was just accidental magic or if it was something more. "Remus feels absolutely horrible about it," he said quickly, holding up his hands in a placating gesture and hoping that he could calm her before the library was damaged. "He told me that he felt caught in a situation where any decision he made would have been bad, but he now recognizes that he chose the worst possible option."

"And who was ze other person?" Fleur demanded as the shelves began to still. "Do you know zem?"

"Not a clue," Sirius said as he slowly lowered his hands, curious about why she was so protective of Hermione. "I'll be honest, though, and say that from what I heard, Hermione doesn't have as much to complain about there."

" **What?** " Jasmine and Hermione asked at the same time, and the shelves started to shake again.

Sirius grimaced and spoke quickly. "Look, as I understand it you jumped a fence or something, right?" When Hermione nodded, he continued, "Well, all the guard knew was that someone, probably magical, was sneaking onto the property and heading for the house. They didn't know you personally, and even if they had, they couldn't know if you were someone else under a glamour or on polyjuice. How would you **expect** them to react?"

At that, the shelves stilled again and he could feel the powerful, anger-fueled magic begin to recede. "He has a point," Fleur said softly as she looked up at Jasmine, who finally seemed to be calming down.

"You were actually fortunate that all they did was stun you instead of treating your appearance like a real attack," Sirius pointed out.

"Oh," Hermione said softly, apparently just now realizing that trying to sneak into a house being guarded against attack might not have been the wisest move.

"And even Remus, as bad as his decision was, had to take similar concerns into account," Sirius added. "Your conversation convinced him that it was really you, and he could tell you weren't under the Imperius Curse, but he couldn't be sure you weren't under any other spells or potions. He checked you after taking you home, but by that point he wasn't prepared to violate his orders to the extent of personally escorting you to Jasmine's house."

Jasmine slowly sat back down but didn't seem at all mollified. "Look," Sirius said, "you're completely justified in being upset at Dumbledore's decision to keep you isolated. I complained about it myself repeatedly. He was dead set on keeping you safe, but he went about it the wrong way. Yet given that you both were indeed attacked at home, even I have to admit that his fears were well-founded."

"I guess I'm not as upset about it now as I was at the time," Hermione said slowly, and Jasmine turned to scowl at her. "Really, I'm not," she insisted with a shrug. "I don't like it, but I wasn't actually injured. And anyway, once we were both here together, none of it seemed to matter as much." Jasmine seemed to deflate a bit and nodded grudgingly, though Sirius suspected that she wasn't going to let it go — not yet, at least.

He hesitated for a moment before bringing up the next topic, but he'd been putting it off for far too long already. And maybe it would distract them from thoughts of murdering Dumbledore. "Hey, Jasmine, Hermione, there's something I keep meaning to bring up. How are you feeling now after the attack? I mean, how are you coping with having been attacked and having to fight for your lives?"

Their expressions grew haunted. "I'm not sorry about anything I did," Jasmine insisted, "but I'm not happy that I had to do it, either. I don't always sleep well... I get some dreams about what happened, and they aren't very good dreams, either. I had the same problem after I was kidnapped, too."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I often wake up once or twice a night because of nightmares. I don't regret a single spell I cast, but I don't feel very good about myself for not regretting it."

Sirius laid his hands on their shoulders and squeezed in sympathy. "If I may make a suggestion? There's a portrait here of my many-times great aunt, Elladora Black. She was a mind healer, and I've been talking to her about my own experiences in Azkaban. I didn't expect it to do any good, but for whatever reason talking to her has really helped. It might help you, too."

"So, she's your therapist?" Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I... have no idea what a therapist is," Sirius admitted. "Is that a muggle thing? I just talk to her about what's happened to me — what I've done, how I'm feeling, that sort of thing. She asks questions and gives some advice on how to handle my problems. She also gets advice on how to help me from mind healers at St. Mungo's — anonymously, of course."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, that's what a therapist does." She looked at Jasmine, who sat in thought for a moment before agreeing to give it a try if Hermione would as well — and if they could do it together.

"Good," Sirius said with a relieved smile. "I've got her hanging in my bedroom, in case I wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. Just let me know when you want to talk to her and I'll arrange for privacy." _I hope this helps them_ , he thought, _though I'd love to know whether that was my mother's only motivation for suggesting it. It almost certainly isn't, but for the life of me I can't imagine what else she might be angling for._

"Zis is a very generous contract," Fleur said after she finished reading the document and turned her attention back to the other three. "Do you know if zis is standard?"

Sirius shook his head. "I have no idea, though Moony probably does. I wouldn't be surprised if Albus sweetened the deal a bit to ensure you liked it. He's probably getting desperate, and that alone would cause him to make an extra effort to get you to agree. The fact that you're friends with Jasmine might be playing a role, too."

Fleur frowned. "Do you zink I should not accept it, zen?

"Oh, no," Sirius answered. "I think it's a great opportunity — for you generally, I mean, since having this on your record at such a young age will open lots of doors. Selfishly, though, I have to admit that I'll feel better knowing that you'll be in the castle to help Jasmine and Hermione if they need it."

"Yeah," Jasmine agreed quickly, then she looked a bit embarrassed and hesitant. "I mean, uh, only take it because you want it. And I think you'd be brilliant at it! But, I mean, well, it'll be nice to have you around. If you do it."

"I feel the same way," Hermione said. "I think it would be great to have you there, but don't just do it for us."

Fleur smiled at them, obviously pleased at what she had heard. She immediately picked up her quill and signed the contract, producing a bright glow around both the parchment and herself.

"What... was **that**?" Hermione asked tightly.

"That was magic accepting Fleur's and the headmaster's agreement to the contract," Sirius said, not understanding her reaction.

"So... a glow involves a contract? What about oaths?" Hermione asked.

"No," Sirius said, shaking his head. "Sometimes there are magical glows of raw power. In this sort of situation, though, the glow is the acceptance of magic, or perhaps I should say Magic with a capital M."

"Magic with a capital M?" Jasmine repeated.

"I've seen that used," Hermione said, "but I didn't quite understand it."

Sirius sighed. "I'd better sit down," he said, finally joining them at the table. "This could take a bit. I'll try to explain, but remember that this is all rather difficult — theory was never one of my strengths." When the two younger witches nodded, he continued, "There's magic, and then there's **Magic**. The first is what we magicals **do** : spells, contracts, enchantments, etc. They exist through our efforts. There wouldn't be a _Lumos_ spell if some witch or wizard hadn't created it. That magical contract wouldn't exist if Dumbledore hadn't written it. With me so far?" The two witches nodded again.

"Well," Sirius asked, "where did the magic for the spell or contract come from? Creating the spell didn't create the magic that powers the spell. That's Magic with a capital M: it's what lies behind the instances of magic we create, use, and so forth. Some believe that it's simply a vast reservoir of power — according to them, that glow was the contract tapping into the reservoir, acquiring the power necessary to enforce itself. Others say that it's alive and at least partially self-aware. According to them, that flash was Magic making a choice to accept the contract, and that such acceptance means that Magic will enforce it, too."

"I guess you're in that latter group?" Hermione asked, curious despite her impatience.

Sirius nodded. "I can't prove anything, of course, but some of the things I've seen and read really only make sense if there's some sort of mind or will behind Magic — if Magic has some ability to make choices, like the choice to not accept that contract, for example. In fact, it's one of the few things taught by the Black family that I still agree with. All Blacks are taught from when they are young children that there is something more to magic than just impersonal power — something that deserves our respect or even deference, especially if it seems that Magic is pushing for some goal or outcome."

Jasmine looked thoughtful, while Fleur was nodding in agreement. "Oui, ze veela believe something very similar."

Sirius' expression turned regretful. "Over time, that idea morphed into a belief that those who showed the most respect to Magic would be favored or rewarded. Some turned it around and asserted that having magical power or abilities was proof that one had already been blessed. That, in turn, led to the belief that Magic blessed certain pureblood families exclusively, which of course produced the blood-based bigotry that we're fighting against."

"So the bigotry, hate, and violence we're facing can be traced to the simple idea that magic should be respected?" Jasmine asked.

"I'm afraid so," Sirius answered. "You can never be sure where the most innocuous beliefs or the most reasonable choices can lead down the road."

"Back to the glowing," Hermione said as her impatience won out over her curiosity, "Glows occur with magical agreements? Both oaths and contracts?"

"No, not exactly," Sirius said, trying to find the right words to explain this — it was something he'd always taken for granted and never thought about in detail. "It's broader than simply an agreement. There's a glow when people get married, for example, and that's more than just an agreement or contract."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly. "And house elves?"

"Yes!" Sirius said, now seeing a way forward. "They're all different types of bonds, but only some of them are actually called bonds — like marriage bonds or bonding a house elf. The contract also creates a sort of bond between Fleur and Hogwarts, even though it isn't anywhere near as strong or serious as a marriage; but since it's been accepted by Magic, it will be magically enforced. Not all bonds are good, of course, but ideally a bond will allow those involved to become something more than just the sum of their parts and to accomplish more together than they ever could separately."

Sirius watched the brunette witch as she was thinking furiously about... well, something involving what he just said, none of which struck him as being especially important right now. For some reason, though, it had caught her attention. He didn't notice that Fleur was staring at her very intently.

"I've... I've got to go look some stuff up," Hermione suddenly said before racing off to another part of the library to start reading.

"Do you know what that's all about?" Sirius asked. Jasmine just shrugged unconcernedly, apparently used to Hermione getting distracted by this or that research project. Fleur, however, looked very pensive.

"Well," Sirius said as he stood up, "I've gotta go sweet-talk Hermione's parents into letting me put my money to good use for a change. Wish me luck..."

* * *

In another corner of the library, Hermione was reading frantically from several different books at once. She'd noted their existence earlier while getting acquainted with the library's organization and had intended to find time to look through them as part of a long-term research project, but what had once been relegated to near the bottom of her to-do list had just rocketed to the top and beyond.

 _Marriage bonds... glowing around the joined hands when the vows are finished. Slavery bonds... glowing around the shackles as ownership is assumed. Ugh! House elf bonds... glowing around both elf and master as the bond is formed. Bond of contractual agreement... glow around the contract and signatories once the contract goes into effect. Magical oaths... glow starting from the wand then enveloping the one making the oath. Engagement Oath... glow around the joined hands as the couple recites the family engagement promise and becomes oath-bound._

 _Oaths. Contracts. Marriages. Bonds... What does this have to do with_ _ **us**_ _?_ Hermione wondered.

 _Oaths? We haven't made any... oh, we did make a sort of oath to each other with the rings, but it wasn't like an engagement oath — or no family oath that we know of. And anyway, we didn't make any real oaths during... those other times._ _We made promises to always come when the other was in danger, but was that an oath? We didn't glow when we said the words._

 _Contracts? We definitely haven't been signing any contracts with each other. Marriage? Of course we're not mar—_ Hermione froze as a few more distant memories started connecting. Conclusions were reached, discarded, and reluctantly accepted again. Without bothering to clean up the piles of books around her, she jumped up and ran out of the library, hoping that her parents weren't in their shared bedroom.

* * *

 **Thursday, August 5, 1995. Afternoon.**

Hermione had skipped lunch, focusing instead on reading through D. Tempest Pureheart's _The Power of Love_ — or more specifically, rereading the same passages over and over in the vain hope that they'd provide more information than they did the previous times. After hours of fruitless work, she remembered one other possible source of information that she hadn't tried yet.

"Winky? Dobby?" she called out. Nothing. She and Jasmine had been told that they'd be gone for two months, give or take. They should be home any day now, but obviously not in time to help her with this.

Finally she could delay no longer. After sealing the book back in her trunk, she marched into the library where Fleur and Jasmine were back at work. She stopped in front of their table across from Fleur and next to Jasmine, and fixed Fleur with a very determined look — one that made the veela witch squirm a bit, which only told Hermione that she was on the right track. Hermione leaned forward over the table, placing her palms flat on the surface, and said, "You once told us that a lot of veela magic involves magical bonds and magical rituals. You also said that veela are especially knowledgeable about such things. Are **you** knowledgeable about them?"

"Oui," Fleur said in a soft voice.

"Hermione," Jasmine said, "What's going—" Hermione held up one hand, abruptly cutting off the rest of Jasmine's question.

"So tell me... no tell **us** , Fleur," Hermione continued, "what you know about **soul bonds**."

"What... what do you wish to know?" Fleur asked.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then reached out to one side and grabbed Jasmine's hand. "Do **we** ," she asked, "have a soul bond?" Fleur started looking very nervous and uncomfortable, which only annoyed Hermione further. "It's a simple question, Fleur. Why can't you answer it?"

"What's going on?" Jasmine asked, apparently starting to realize that everyone knew a lot more than she did about something that probably involved her — a situation she was all too familiar with and absolutely hated.

"Bonds," Hermione explained. "It's what we were talking about earlier. There are all different kinds of magical bonds, from really serious ones like marriages, to nasty ones like slavery bonds, to fairly innocuous ones like simple employment contracts. They all create different kinds of bonds between people. In the muggle world these bonds are often metaphorical, but in the magical world they're not — they are real, and they have real consequences beyond making you feel good or guilty. With me so far?" Jasmine nodded.

"The one thing they all have in common," Hermione continued, "is a magical glowing light that signifies... well, according to Sirius, that Magic is accepting the bond."

"Like that blinding light when we bonded to the elves," Jasmine interjected.

"Exactly," Hermione said. "And the glow when people took an oath to protect our secrets. And the glow when Fleur signed that contract. And the glow when you and I... well, I've noticed a glow around us a couple of times. It happened the night of Beltane, and it happened in my house when we kissed. Twice, in fact."

"So what does that mean for us?" Jasmine asked. "We have a... what? A soul bond? What is that?"

"Yes, that's the conclusion that I was coming to, based on what I read in... uh, that book that McGonagall gave us," Hermione answered. "There isn't much information about them, but based on everything that I have been able to find, it seems like we are soul-bonded."

"OK, we're soul-bonded. So what?" Jasmine asked again. "What does that even mean?"

Hermione shook her head and said, "I really don't... I mean... I..." Both witches stared blankly at each other. "Actually, I, uh, do seem to know."

"Yeah..." Jasmine agreed. "So do I, and I've never even heard of them before five minutes ago. Why do I know that we're soul-bonded and what soul bonds are? It's not just a guess or something I believe because you said it and I trust you. I **know** it."

Whatever Hermione had been expecting from Fleur when she first decided to confront her about this, seeing her slump down over the table and start repeating "zank you, zank you" over and over was definitely not it.

After a few moments, she looked up again and said, "You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say zat. It is such a relief! I feel as zough a great weight has been lifted off of me." She paused for a moment, then added, "Ze glow you mentioned must have happened a few other times as well. If you two close your eyes when you kiss, zen you probably would not have noticed. Ze glow is usually very pale and not meant to be seen very easily."

"You knew?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Wait, please, you must understand," Fleur tried to explain. "I could not tell you!"

"You knew!" Jasmine flared, starting to get carried away by her anger. "How could you keep something like this from us?"

Hermione, though, put her hand on Jasmine's shoulder and said slowly, "I'm not sure she **could** tell us..."

"No, I could not. I **literally** could not say! Magic prevented me or anyone else from saying!" Fleur insisted, holding up her hands in a sign of surrender.

"Explain," Jasmine said tightly, though at Hermione's squeeze she seemed to subside a bit.

Fleur paused for a moment to collect herself. "You know how zis house is hidden by ze _Fidelius_ charm? You and I can talk about ze address because we have both heard ze secret, but you cannot tell anyone else. If you try, no words will come out — the magic of the charm will prevent you from saying anything. Only ze secret keeper can share ze location with a new person."

"And knowledge of a soul bond is concealed by similar magic, isn't it..." Hermione said, a faraway look in her eyes. It wasn't a question.

"Oui, zough it is not a spell cast by any witch or wizard," Fleur agreed. "It is somehow built in by Magic itself. I and a few others could see ze signs and concluded zat you must be forming a soul bond, but we were not, for lack of a better term, your secret keepers. We literally could not say to anyone, even you, anything like 'Jasmine and Hermione are forming a soul bond.' Technically, we didn't even **know** your secret — it was more like a strong suspicion."

"That... sounds familiar," Jasmine conceded, starting to calm down. "And what's different now?"

"No one understands ze magic fully," Fleur said, "but from what we can tell, a couple developing a soul bond will eventually figure it out for zemselves, once zey are ready, and become zeir own secret keepers, able to tell others if zey wish. Once you said in my presence zat you are soul bonded (zough technically your bond is still developing), you shared your secret with me, confirming my prior conclusion, and now I can talk about it freely. But only with you, not with anyone you have not shared zis with."

"Couldn't you have at least hinted at it?" Jasmine asked plaintively, but she looked like she already knew the answer.

"Soul bonded couples need to figure it out on zeir own and in zeir own time," Fleur insisted. "Again, no one is positive why, but it is believed that zis is necessary for ze relationship to develop as naturally as possible. If zey are told too soon, ze bond might be manipulated, harming ze couple. So you had to figure it out on your own. I am not sure what makes a couple 'ready' or even what zat means — magically ready? Emotionally ready? Mentally ready? Whatever it is, I assume you two reached it, perhaps due to what you experienced over ze past few days."

Jasmine and Hermione immediately looked at each other.

"McGonagall," Hermione said.

"Flitwick," Jasmine added.

At Fleur's confused expression, Hermione clarified, "We've known for a bit that Professors McGonagall and Flitwick have known something about us — something that they said we'd have to figure out for ourselves. This has to be it."

Fleur nodded. "Zat makes sense, oui."

"So... now what?" Jasmine asked.

"Well, we can..." Whatever Hermione was going to say was lost when she saw Fleur looking nervously down at the table. "What is it, Fleur? I think it's clear that we'll forgive you for not telling us about the bond, since you really couldn't. I'm guessing that all of those things your mother and grandmother told you revolve around this as well, which we'll also accept. But please don't keep more secrets."

Fleur sighed. "Zere are more — zings zat I was obligated not to tell you until after you figured out your bond. You will understand once I explain, but not now." As soon as both girls started to protest, she cut them off with a sharp gesture. "Non! You two must focus on your bond first! Ze rest can wait — it is not as if you can do anything about it right now anyway. Once I know zat you two are comfortable with zis new information, **zen and only zen** will I tell you ze rest. Understand?"

Both Jasmine and Hermione nodded, thoroughly chastened. Fleur had always been fairly easygoing with them, but this was the first time either had seen her behaving in such a stern, commanding manner. They suddenly wondered just how hard their Defense lessons were going to be.

"Bien," Fleur said, smiling now. "One zing you should definitely know now is zat until ze bond is finalized, you need physical contact to keep it strong. You two probably sought it out unconsciously when you were at Hogwarts, but being apart for a month has weakened your bond. When I told you zat I could see your connection, it was ze bond zat I was seeing. Right now, however, it is weaker zan when I left you at Hogwarts... not as bad as when I first arrived here, but not as good as it should be."

Jasmine and Hermione shared a look. "That makes sense, based on what we seem to know," Hermione said.

"Now you need some time alone," Fleur asserted. "Come." She rose from the table and led the other two upstairs to the bedroom she'd been given by Sirius. "You go in here and talk about zis for ze rest of ze day. I will silence and seal ze door from ze outside such zat you will be able to leave whenever you wish, but no one will be able to enter, not even me. Don't worry, I'll figure out something to tell ze others."

Once they were inside and she'd cast her spells, Fleur returned to the library to continue her research. First, though, she wrote a quick note to her mother: _"L'avalanche a commencé."_

Not one of the witches remembered the presence of the portraits out of sight on the back wall, and even if they had, they wouldn't have given it much thought because they knew the portraits wouldn't divulge their secrets without their permission — not even to Sirius.

That order only extended to people, however. Not to other portraits.

* * *

"Walburga! Walburga!"

"What is it, Aquila?" Walburga asked, annoyed at being summoned to the portrait room when she was trying to listen in on what people were saying in the sitting room.

"It's those two witches," Aquila said excitedly. "Jasmine Dorea and her mudblood friend!"

Walburga frowned slightly. Not long ago she, too, would have reflexively referred to the young witch as a mudblood, but after much thought she'd been coming to the conclusion that perhaps it would be better to refrain. "What about them? Did they nearly destroy the library again? The house may not survive too many more incidents like the one that happened this morning."

"No, they... they're... I mean, they..." Aquila gasped, stuttered, and generally made a fool of himself trying to remember something that simply wouldn't come. Finally, he managed to say, "There's something going on between them!"

"Oh?"

"Yes," Aquila insisted. "They... I mean, it's... well, it's not normal, is what it is."

Walburga arched an eyebrow. "That's a bit... vague."

Aquila grimaced in frustration. "I'm sorry, but for some reason, I can't remember whatever it is I heard. I just don't understand it. I heard the words and understood them, but now when I try to remember them, there's nothing there. All I have now is a vague sense of something unusual happening. It's... it's not normal, whatever it is."

Walburga frowned in thought for a moment. "Maybe they cast a privacy ward that prevents you from remembering what you hear? I'm unaware of such a spell, but it might be something only known by veela. Regardless, I have been watching those two, and I think I have an idea of what you're trying to say."

Aquila sagged in relief. "Thank you. That... that was quite unpleasant. I'll return to the library to keep an eye on them."

Before he could leave the frame, Walburga called out. "Oh, and Aquila?" When he turned back, she continued, "If you were indeed trying to remember what I think you were, perhaps it would be... unwise to refer to the muggleborn by such derogatory terms as you did earlier? I mean, given her closeness to Jasmine Dorea..." Her tone was all sweetness and light — which, coming from Walburga Black, was usually a promise of extensive pain.

Aquila's portrait stiffened at the implied threat and nodded quickly. Walburga added, "And perhaps a bit of privacy for them from now on? We wouldn't want to anger them. Be a dear and let the others know, would you?" Aquila nodded again, then left immediately to tell Rigel, the other portrait in the library, and start passing the word.

Walburga sighed and sat in her chair, no longer interested in whatever the fools downstairs were yammering on about. _I guess my suspicions were right about those two being more than just friends,_ she mused. _Perhaps it's just a youthful fling? Sirius certainly had plenty of his own, though of course they weren't with other..._ She shook her head. _Well, regardless, this won't do. I may not be in a position to put an end to it, but hopefully I can ensure that their relationship remains private... at least until I can figure something else out. In the meantime, they might benefit from some guidance. Maybe even some help with their anger issues._

"Oh, Elladora! We need to talk..."


	9. Paint it Black

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM - I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "The Challenge of the Goblet" by Luan Mao. Harry just knew that someone was going to try to enter him into the Triwizard Tournament, but no one believed him. So he's taking matters into his own hands - because that's always worked out so well before, right?

 _Italics_ : a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 09 - Paint it Black**

 **Friday, August 6, 1995, Morning.**

Jasmine and Hermione hadn't gotten as much talking done Thursday evening as they probably should have - the emotions surrounding their new-found knowledge about their relationship had inspired the sort of personal interaction that didn't involve words. It was only their desire to _not_ use Fleur's bed that had ensured they talked much at all.

So on Friday morning, Fleur shut the two of them up in her room again, and it was only then that they had calmed enough - mostly - to have a serious conversation about what they knew, what they could still only speculate about, and what it would mean for their relationship.

"It's an awful lot to take in," Jasmine said, "and I'm still going to have to think about it for a while. I mean, it's just too big to be able to instantly accept." Hermione nodded, feeling the same way. "At the moment, though, I'd say that I'm mostly okay with it."

"Mostly?" Hermione asked, a bit of worry edging her voice.

Jasmine raked a hand through her hair, a sure sign of her nervousness. "You've got to understand, Hermione, that I've spent most of my life being manipulated and having all of my choices made for me by others. I've only rarely been given a voice in anything that's happened to me. Being with you is one of the few serious choices I've made for myself. While I know that we can technically choose not to be with each other, the bond would make such a choice really costly. I guess... I mean, even if I never wanted to choose not to be with you..." Jasmine trailed off, feeling at a loss for words.

"It's the principle of the thing," Hermione offered. "Even if you can't ever imagine making a certain choice, you don't like the idea of having it taken away from you - especially by impersonal forces beyond your control."

"Exactly," Jasmine said with a wan smile. "I can't imagine not being with you, but just on sheer principle I don't like being told that I can't **not** be with you. That's why I said 'mostly' - I'm not okay with being denied a choice, regardless of whether I'd ever take it or not."

Hermione nodded and smiled back. "I don't feel quite so resistant to the idea of that choice being denied me, or even just made a lot more difficult. That's probably because I've had an easier time in making choices for myself than you. I understand what you're saying, though, and it doesn't bother me."

"Thanks," Jasmine said with relief, "I was worried you might take it wrong. It sounded a lot more reasonable in my head than when I said it."

"As I've thought about it, I can understand better now why couples like us aren't allowed to know about the bond," Hermione observed. "Looking back, I can feel confident that even though the bond was encouraging us along the path, it was still our own choices that brought us to this point. If we had known about the bond, though, I'm not sure I'd feel quite so confident. I'd probably always have doubts, and doubts like that can poison a relationship in the long run."

Jasmine nodded. "Yeah, definitely. This relationship only works if we **choose** to make it work, not if we're compelled to. I mean, take marriage, for example - marriage wouldn't have nearly as much value if you were forced into it and simply had to make the best of the situation because you couldn't get out of it. I can accept magic… or I guess, **Magic** , encouraging and helping, but not forcing."

"In many ways, learning about our having a bond is a relief. It explains so much of what's been happening to us..." Hermione started to say.

"Our increases in power," Jasmine continued, "our ability to use each other's wands..."

As they talked, they came to the realization that while they might not yet fully understand what a soul bond was, they definitely knew that it wasn't yet complete, and that completion required "going all the way" - something that they were still uncertain about when it came to two witches.

"Well," Hermione said, "I guess I can see two options. First, we could do one new thing at a time, one night after another, until this bond is fully formed. Then we'll know."

Jasmine nodded, thinking that that sounded like Hermione's typical, methodical approach. "And the second?"

"We pick a night and do... everything," Hermione answered. "Or at least everything we can think of. As long as we don't miss or forget anything, we'll get it right sooner or later."

"That gets my vote," Jasmine said immediately.

The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched. "Aside from the obvious, why do you say that?"

"Well… it's like our decision about going to Beltane, isn't it?" Jasmine explained. "You argued then that we shouldn't go into Beltane unless we were certain that we **wanted** something to happen between us. That we shouldn't let something like that be a random event - that we should embrace it, otherwise we might regret it. Now, while I'm sure we'll never regret completing the bond, I still think it's better that when it happens, it happens because we've made the conscious decision to do it at a particular time - not because we just happened to hit on the right combination of body parts."

Hermione blushed slightly at Jasmine's choice of words, but after a moment agreed. "You're right. I won't deny that I'm really curious about which, uh, combination is the key, but that's still the best approach. And maybe when it happens, we'll know quickly enough that I'll still get that answer."

"Any idea of when we should do it?" Jasmine asked, but Hermione shook her head.

"I really don't know when would be best, I just know that I'm not quite ready yet."

"Ready for that, at least," Jasmine agreed. "But in the meantime…."

They smiled at each other for a long moment... that went a bit longer... and soon any further hope of conversation was laid to rest while Fleur's bed was finally put to use.

Which was exactly what Fleur had been expecting from the start. She was French, after all.

* * *

While Jasmine and Hermione were talking upstairs, Hermione's parents stayed in the kitchen after breakfast chatting with Tonks. Her metamorphmagus skills fascinated them, and her personality was far livelier than the adults they'd met so far. She was also much more willing to share information about the magical world - warts and all - than most of the others were.

"I hope we didn't cause any serious problems by revealing the return of You-Know-Who," she said at one point. "Back when Dumbledore, Lupin, and I visited you three."

"Oh, that," Lindsey responded. "It did lead to some rather difficult conversations, but they were discussions that we really needed to have. Hermione was keeping quite a few things from us."

"I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of muggleborn do," Tonks observed. "And that's not taking into account the fact that she's a teenager, and it's pretty much a rule that teens have to keep all sorts of stuff from their parents. Hell, there are lots of things my mum and dad **still** don't know about what I got up to when I was Hermione's age."

Lindsey put his head in his hands as Emma said dryly, "Not helping, Tonks." Tonks just grinned mischievously while morphing her eyes to make them much larger than normal, her expression radiating cute innocence.

Lindsey shook his head and continued, "I can understand keeping some things to herself, like her mysterious boyfriend, but not the dangerous things she got into."

"Mysterious boyfriend, huh?" Tonks asked with obvious relish. "Do tell!"

"I would, but she won't even tell us his name," Lindsey complained. "She insists that she hasn't broken up with him, but she won't share anything about him."

Emma sighed as she took a sip of her tea. "I was actually concerned for a bit there that she might have been sexually assaulted."

"What?!" Lindsey blurted, understandably upset.

"Don't worry," she replied quickly, "I got some books and did some research. In the end, I concluded that she wasn't showing the common symptoms of someone who had been the victim of an assault. Early in the summer, though, it seemed like it - being secretive and not telling us anything while also insisting that they hadn't broken up."

"Well, that's a relief." Lindsey relaxed visibly, then almost immediately started getting worked up again. "But it still doesn't make any sense. Why is she so secretive about him? Is he a lot older than her? Is there something wrong with him?"

Emma put her hand on her husband's arm, trying to get him calm again, while Tonks stared off in the distance, her curiosity piqued. "I wonder if I can figure out who he is and what's really going on," she murmured to herself.

* * *

 **Saturday, August 7, 1995, Morning.**

On Saturday morning, Jasmine and Hermione didn't even wait until breakfast before seeking out Fleur, knocking on her bedroom door shortly after they knew she'd taken her shower. Once the veela had let them in and spelled her door, she asked impishly, "So, did you two need me, or did you just want to use my room to 'talk' some more?"

Jasmine went a bit pink at that. "No, uh, we just wanted to discuss things - with you, I mean!" she added hastily, blushing even harder. Fleur smiled at her reaction, so Jasmine tried again. "Look, I don't know how comfortable we are with this bond, but I think we're as comfortable as we're going to be for the foreseeable future. Getting used to it will simply take time - time that I'm not sure we have."

"What is ze problem?" Fleur asked, sobering now.

"Yesterday, while we were talking about the soul bond," Hermione said, "Jasmine finally told me everything that the serpent's head on the staff said during the Imbolc ceremony back in January."

"Really?" Fleur asked, trying to restrain her eagerness. She'd been wanting to get that information for months.

Jasmine nodded. "I'm really uncomfortable with being a parselmouth and prefer to forget it most of the time - that's why I avoid talking about it. And besides, the snakes I've heard rarely have anything interesting to say, so it's not like I'm holding much back." Hermione snorted in amusement, but Jasmine soldiered on. "Yesterday, though, I remembered that some of what the snake said makes sense now in light of our bond."

"Other things it said worry us, though," Hermione added.

"Will you tell me what ze snake said to you?" Fleur asked. "I have been very curious."

"Yes, if you tell us the rest of what's going on," Jasmine replied.

"Oui, I intended to do zat anyway," Fleur assured her, "and now seems like a good time. But perhaps we should do zis in ze library?"

Once they were sitting at their table in the family library, Jasmine pulled out two pieces of parchment and handed one to Fleur. "I wrote this down a couple of days after Imbolc because I couldn't stop thinking about it, and it seemed like it might be important. The first thing the snake said was: 'You, there! It's about time you have come. We have awaited the arrival of you and your mate for many an age, and now the hour grows late. Two great fates create heavy burdens for one so young, yet bear them you must. I see great power in you, and great love as well, but there is also much fear and uncertainty.'"

Jasmine gave Fleur a chance to consider that, then she continued, "Next it said to Gabrielle, 'Speak now, fledgling!' and after Gabrielle said whatever it was that she did, the snake said, 'You, Chosen One, must overcome your fears, your doubts, and the burdens of your past before you can face the trials that lay before you. Only then will you be able to finalize the bonds and make possible the resurgence of the feminine in magic. Only then will you have the power to do what must be done to eliminate your enemies. Trust in your mate and heed the words of the goddess, Speaker, for if you fail then we will all burn.'"

Once Fleur had read through the text a few times, she asked, "And zat is it?"

Jasmine nodded, and Hermione chimed in, "Obviously the comment about her 'mate' referred to me, and the comment about finalizing bonds is pretty clear, except for the plural - I mean, what other bonds are there? Then there are parts that have us very worried, like Jasmine having 'heavy burdens' - not to mention this whole 'burning' thing. Can you shed light on any of that?"

Fleur inclined her head. "All of zat sounds consistent with what I know. May I send zis to my maman? She will want to read it." When Jasmine agreed, Fleur continued, "Zere are two parts to what I have to tell you. First is what Gabrielle said zat evening." She then gave them a piece of parchment on which her sister's words were written:

The time of the Great Prophecy approaches.  
The maidens have arrived.  
Their magic must unite.  
Their power must emerge.  
Their love must flourish.  
The Feminine must ascend.  
The Great Prophecy must come to pass.

"Zis was a genuine prophecy, and it refers to ze two of you - two maidens who must unite so ze Great Prophecy can come to pass. A thousand years ago, zere lived a veela prophet by ze name of Cassandra Predire. She was ze greatest prophet ever to appear among ze veela, and ze contents of her prophecies are known to only a few. Zis is to prevent people from tampering with zem - either to hinder zem or to force zem to a particular resolution."

"Is it really that dangerous?" Jasmine asked.

"Oui," Fleur said emphatically. "Whenever someone does zat, zings turn out badly for everyone involved. Because Predire's prophecies are so accurate, ze veela leaders chose to keep zem secret in order to avoid such consequences. Predire's most important prophecy, one which only a few even know ze existence of, is called ze Great Prophecy."

She then handed them another piece of parchment:

The ones with the power to restore the goddesses approach.  
Two maidens, alone and isolated, will rise out of Albion  
And bind to themselves two shieldmaidens tempered by fire and air.  
A Speaker of mixed blood who fights against the Dark,  
A Scholar of new blood who lights the Path ahead,  
Together bound in heart, mind, magic, and soul,  
They bear the key to power others know not.

United, their power and love shall grow.  
With power comes strength,  
And the oppression shall be ended.  
With love comes creation,  
And the Eternal Feminine will flourish.  
Or all will be lost and the Feminine suppressed forever.  
The ones with the power to restore the goddesses approach.

"Zis prophecy is definitely about ze two of you," Fleur explained. "You are ze two maidens, and zis is Albion." At Jasmine's confused look she added, "It is an older name for Britain. So, one of you is a speaker - a parselmouth - while ze other is a scholar. Both of you are soul-bonded, and according to Predire, you have a destiny to restore ze feminine aspect of magic to its rightful place - to put an end to how ze feminine aspect of magic is treated by so many as dark, superstitious, or unworthy."

Jasmine just stared open-mouthed at Fleur for a long moment, then she slumped forward with a groan, putting her head in her hands. Hermione reached over to give Jasmine's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Eventually the green-eyed witch looked up and said, "You have **got** to be kidding me. Why us? I mean, it isn't like I don't already have enough to do. Why did some veela chick who lived a thousand years ago have to go and mess up our lives like this? Why do we have to be responsible for... what was it again? Oh, yeah: we save magic or everyone burns. No pressure or anything!"

Both Hermione and Fleur scooted around and wrapped Jasmine in a hug from either side to give her a little comfort - though in truth, her words probably did more to depress them than their hug managed to console her. Hermione had been so focused on the details that the magnitude of the task was only just now dawning on her. Caught up in her own training and preparations, Fleur herself hadn't really thought about the larger issues since shortly after she had learned about the prophecy.

They sat there for quite some time before any of them were ready to speak again. Unsurprisingly, it was Hermione who took the lead, hoping that by breaking the prophecy down into more manageable pieces, they could better understand what was being asked of them.

"A lot of this is obvious, especially when all three items are put together - the two prophecies and the statements from the snake," she said. "The bonding is clear, which also explains all the instances of the two of us uniting - magic, love, etc." Fleur nodded, having already given all of this a lot of thought.

"What I don't understand," Hermione continued, "is what is meant about 'the feminine aspect' ascending or the 'resurgence of the feminine in magic.' Is that the same as restoring the goddesses? And this goddess that the snake said to heed - is she getting restored, too? Or is that a different goddess altogether?" She grimaced in annoyance. "This really could be clearer, you know…."

"And what about overcoming my fears, doubts, and burdens?" Jasmine piped up.

Hermione gave her a sympathetic look. "I hate to say it, but that part isn't too hard to understand - the question is **how** to do it."

"Maybe zat is something you will do with ze portrait your godfather told you about?" Fleur suggested.

Hermione's eyes brightened. "That's a great idea! We were going to do it anyway, but maybe that will help in more ways than we realized." Jasmine nodded in agreement, though she didn't look nearly as thrilled by the prospect.

"But what about the rest?" Hermione pressed. "And what's this about Jasmine having **two** great fates?"

"Zat is more complicated, I zink," Fleur said slowly. "I do not know what ze snake meant by two fates. If it simply mentioned 'fate' in ze singular, I would assume it was referring to ze prophecy, but..."

"You don't suppose there is a second prophecy, do you?" Hermione interrupted.

Fleur's brow furrowed. "Not zat I know of, but I will write and ask my maman to do a search among ze veela prophecy records."

After jotting down a few notes, Fleur continued, "Ze references to ze goddesses and to ze feminine aspect of magic are all probably the same. Ze goddesses... well, whether zey exist as independent beings or are simply different aspects of one goddess, zey are ze feminine in magic. Veela do not honor any gods or a masculine aspect of magic, but witches and wizards once did so together. So we recognize zey exist, but zey have no role in our magic like zey should in ze magic of most witches and wizards."

Hermione frowned, clearly unhappy about so many unknown variables. "Relax, Hermione," Fleur said with a smile. "Ze details may be interesting in some ways, but zey are not so important here. What is important is zat for centuries, wizards have slowly marginalized ze feminine aspect of magic, including honoring the goddesses. Ze disappearance of ze rituals is only ze most obvious example. It's gotten to ze point where ze feminine aspect of magic has become not merely inferior or neglected, but is increasingly labeled as dark. It is a trend all over ze world, zough to different degrees in different places. If it continues, ze feminine aspect of magic could be lost entirely. Zat would cause incalculable harm to ze practice of magic as we know it."

Hermione considered that. "So the scales have tipped too far in one direction... and if they keep tipping, the scales will fall over completely. Our job is to start shifting the scales back in the other direction - to make, well, make it safer for more feminine forms of magic to be practiced? Female-only rituals? To make them more popular? Or maybe to encourage rituals with both wizards and witches?"

Fleur shook her head. "None can say in advance exactly what must be done to fulfill ze prophecy, and we shouldn't presume to force ze prophecy in any one direction. Any of zose zings might fulfill it, but maybe none would be ze best outcome."

"That doesn't really make much sense," Jasmine objected.

Fleur snorted. "Prophecies often don't make much sense, or at least not until after zey have been fulfilled. I will admit zat I personally zink all of zose zings would at least help fulfill ze prophecy, but I do not know for sure. Do not forget also zat while the goddesses must be restored, ze prophecy says nothing about suppressing ze **gods** or overthrowing them. We three are naturally focused on ze feminine side of magic, but zere are still wizards in ze world, and it may be zat zey have a part to play as well. You must be open to all possibilities."

"Then what are we supposed to **do**?" Hermione asked plaintively.

"My best advice is zat we focus on learning, understanding, and celebrating ze feminine aspect of magic," Fleur said. "When ze opportunity to do more presents itself, you take it - like you did with your friends at Midsummer's Eve. Do not force it. Instead, be mindful of ze prophecy and how zings zat happen to you might enable you to follow it. If you simply assumed zat you **must** be doing certain zings, like making certain rituals more popular, zen you might become so focused on zem zat you miss something even more important."

Hermione pouted, clearly not liking the absence of an unambiguous answer, but she finally nodded. "I guess we can do that. I'd prefer a more clearly defined plan, but I've seen worse." This last was said with a pointed look at her girlfriend.

"What about you, Jasmine?" Fleur asked. "Did you have any other questions?"

"Yes," she replied, "What is meant here by shieldmaidens?"

Fleur smiled, "What two people do you know who have been tempered by fire and air?"

The girls' eyes went wide as realization sunk in. "But… no…" Jasmine stammered. "We haven't bound…."

"Oui, you have," Fleur responded. "After ze second task you kissed, activating ze soul bond, causing Gabrielle and me to be caught up in it."

"Oh, was it when we were in the castle after the fight with Malfoy?" Hermione suddenly said. "I felt something weird when Jasmine and I kissed…."

"Yeah," Jasmine added, "I think I remember feeling something then, too."

Fleur shook her head. "Ze bond between us was probably stabilized zen, but I am talking about when you kissed immediately after ze task. Gabrielle and I felt changes shortly after zat."

"Oh, right," Hermione said, "I remember now. Jasmine was starting to get angry and I kissed her, but I pulled the blanket over us so we wouldn't be seen. Gabrielle was there, but she was dozing off in Jasmine's arms and wouldn't have noticed anything."

Fleur nodded. "Fortunately, everyone was yelling at Dumbledore at ze time, so no one was paying any attention to you. Somehow, your kiss created a bond among all four of us - not a soul bond, obviously, but a bond nonetheless. Gabrielle and I feel very protective of you, and we both fell ill when you two were attacked because we could not be zere to help. I think zis is also why we all feel so much closer and more comfortable with each other."

"I'm… I'm so sorry, Fleur," Jasmine said softly. "I'm sorry you've gotten mixed up in this."

"Non, don't apologize," Fleur insisted. "I will admit zat it was difficult to take in at first, but Gabrielle and I have come to accept it. We will play a significant role in something very, very important to all veela, so we are actually honored. We are your protectors, your shields, and your swords. You have a great destiny, and we will make sure you are able to fulfill it."

"Is this prophecy why you disappeared for so long after the second task?" Hermione asked.

Fleur nodded. "Zat was when I finally learned all of zis - before, I only knew small bits and pieces. After zat, our maman, Adrienne, Areto, and Phoebe trained ze two of us very intensively. I will be using some of what I learned in ze Defense classes I teach, but I zink Gabrielle and I will teach you more in private. She and I may not always be zere to protect you, after all."

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, then as one they surged forward and pulled Fleur into a tight three-way hug. It was a very long, very loving hug that they desperately needed.

* * *

 **Sunday, August 8, 1995, Morning.**

After having spent a lot of time talking about their upcoming move to France, Emma and Lindsey decided that they really needed to ask Fleur some more questions. They had wanted to talk to her on Saturday but were unable to find any of the girls until dinner time, and by then none of them looked like they were in the mood to talk about anything. Emma and Lindsey assumed that it was due to the stress of preparing the the trial, so they made a point of trying to catch them after breakfast before they could disappear again.

That plan hit a stumbling block in the form of a tapping at the kitchen window.

"Hedwig!" Jasmine cried out happily, racing over and opening the window to let her familiar in. "I missed you so much!" she said as she let the owl land on her arm, then proceeded to stroke her feathers.

Eventually she removed the two letters that Hedwig had brought from Neville: one for Ginny and a second for Jasmine and Hermione. The letters they tucked away for later, and Hedwig was let back out the window so she could fly up and rest in the portion of the attic set aside for owls.

After finally getting a chance to talk about France for a little while, Lindsey decided to ask something that he hadn't discussed earlier with Emma.

"Fleur, if we make this move, would Hermione be able to transfer to Beauxbatons like your sister is transferring to Hogwarts?" Dealing with their current practice was a huge complication, but leaving behind their daughter was an even bigger one - and given how many problems there were in both Hogwarts and Britain, he felt that moving her out of the country as well made a lot of sense.

It would have made even more sense to have mentioned this to his wife first.

He couldn't miss the gasps of shock that came from Hermione and Jasmine, but what he focused on was the unexpected frown from Fleur herself. "Why would you want to do zat?" she responded. "You need to move for your safety, but Hermione should be safe in ze castle, and I will promise to watch out for her. She would have trouble getting up to speed with classes and magic in French, and for what?"

Lindsey frowned himself, thinking that it was obvious why his daughter would be better off being closer to her parents rather than going to school in a country where there was an insane magical terrorist running around. He ignored his daughter's cry of "Dad, no!" and was about to rebut Fleur's comments when Emma put her hand on his arm and squeezed. Hard.

"That's alright, it was just an option we wanted to keep open," Emma said. "After all, if things start getting even worse here in Britain, we'd like our daughter to have someplace to go. It would make us all feel much better." She turned to him and added, "Isn't that **right** , dear?" with a look that promised dire consequences if he didn't agree.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he quickly replied, not having any idea what was happening.

"Ah, in zat case, a transfer is possible," Fleur responded. "She will need to improve her French, but ze classes in Beauxbatons are similar to what she has in Hogwarts."

Emma smiled. "Thanks, Fleur, what you've told us will help a lot with our transition." Patting Lindsey's arm now, she added, "C'mon, dear - we should leave the girls in peace to read their letter."

* * *

Once back in the bedroom, Lindsey asked angrily, "What the hell was that, Emma? I thought it was obvious that Hermione would be better off in France with us."

"Language!" Emma said reflexively, then sighed deeply as she sat on the bed. "The reason I stopped you was because you were about to create a huge problem. There's something you don't know. Something... very important." It was then that Emma finally told her husband about what she had seen a couple of days previously in their kitchen - the kiss, the magical glow, and the unmistakable passion that existed between the two girls.

Lindsey didn't know how to react any more than she did - and she'd already had a few days to try to come to terms with it. "Is it... well... I mean..." Lindsey said. "Are you sure about what you saw? I mean, maybe it was just an especially close hug?"

"No, dear," Emma responded. "I'm quite sure. There was no misunderstanding a kiss like that. If you had given me a kiss like that, I'd have dragged you off to the bedroom and had my wicked way with you." Lindsey gulped audibly at that, and Emma went a little pale when she realized the implications of what she'd said.

"Do you suppose they've, uh, you know...?" Lindsey asked.

Emma shook her head. "I don't have any idea, and quite frankly I don't want to. I really don't want to know the details of my daughter's sex life no matter who else is involved. Do **you**?"

"Uh, no, good point," Lindsey said nervously as he fidgeted, then started pacing back and forth. "I guess it explains an awful lot, though."

Emma nodded. "That was just about my first reaction, too. So many things not only make sense now, but actually seem really obvious in hindsight. I almost feel like I should have figured it out on my own."

"Maybe you shouldn't have mentioned in that letter that you were married to your best friend," he said a little wistfully.

Emma froze as she suddenly remembered that **other** letter Hermione wrote - the one about a female friend who had trouble with touching herself and being touched in certain places, and thinking at the time that she was probably talking about Jasmine. Suddenly, that request for help took on whole new dimensions of meaning.

Emma was now very happy that she had never mentioned that letter to Lindsey.

"What do we do now, though?" her husband asked, feeling completely out of his depth. "I... I don't know how to react to a daughter who's, uh, you know. Like that."

"Yeah, I know. It makes me uncomfortable, too," Emma agreed. "It just doesn't seem right."

"Do you suppose someone did something to her?" Lindsey asked. "You know, magically? To make her like this?"

Emma frowned. "That doesn't seem very likely. I haven't seen anyone else here with that... preference. I don't see what the point would be."

"Well, that girl would have a reason to do it," Lindsey protested. "Maybe she did it to seduce our daughter or something?"

Emma's frown deepened. "Don't forget that 'that girl,' as you put it, saved all of our lives - and got injured while doing it, too. I hardly think she's the type to force herself on someone else, magically or otherwise."

"Yeah, I know," Lindsey conceded, his shoulders slumping a bit.

"What's more," she continued, "given the self-esteem issues that emotionally abused children can have, and knowing our daughter's personality, I think it's far more likely that Hermione has been the aggressive one in the… uh… actually, forget I said anything, okay?"

Lindsey nodded, only too happy to oblige. "It's just... I don't understand where this came from. I mean, why? Why girls? Did we do something wrong? Well, aside from what we've already talked about, of course. You don't suppose that had something to do with it? Is it my fault, not being around enough to provide a good male role model?"

Emma shook her head. "I don't think it works like that. Lots of girls grow up with fathers who aren't around much - or at all, for that matter - and they don't all... well, prefer other girls to boys."

"I suppose," Lindsey said grudgingly. "I just wish I understood what the appeal of other girls is."

Emma raised one eloquent eyebrow. "Really? You can't figure out the appeal of girls? Is there something you want to tell me, dear?"

Lindsey cleared his throat and stammered out, "No, I mean for her. It makes sense for me, but, well…."

"Right now, it doesn't really matter," Emma said as she slid back on the bed to lean against the headboard. "But I don't think we should say anything. This is something that she needs to tell us herself. I know we recently had a big argument with her about her keeping secrets from us, but this... well, this is different, I think. It's something a lot more personal, and while I wish she would open up and tell us, I can't say I'm shocked that she hasn't. I think we'll need to build some more trust between us first."

"You don't think we should take her out of Britain because of that?" he asked as he shifted on the bed. "I mean, to put an end to the situation?"

Emma sighed as she rubbed her eyes. "I thought about that… for about five seconds. Given the way she flipped out at being separated from Jasmine for what she knew would be a limited period of time, how do you think she'd react if she were separated from her indefinitely? Do you really think she'd simply accept it and move on? We're trying to bridge the distance between her and us, remember, and forcibly separating the two of them would put an end to that - probably irrevocably, too."

Lindsey nodded reluctantly in agreement as he moved to sit next to her against the headboard. "I guess you're right. We risk losing her completely if we try to break them up, even if we don't say that's what we're doing. We'd face something similar if she were dating a boy we didn't like and we tried to interfere."

"And we don't even know for sure if separating them and putting an end to that sort of relationship is the right thing to do," Emma pointed out. "Risking losing our daughter completely in order to end something that we think might be wrong and which makes us uncomfortable… I just can't accept that. I'm not sure I'd be willing to accept it even if we were **certain** that their relationship was wrong. Looking back on the experience of being distant from her for several years, and probably due in large part to our own mistakes, I really don't want to make **another** mistake that pushes her away completely."

Lindsey put his arm around his wife and the two of them sat in silence, wondering what had happened to their little girl.

* * *

 **Sunday, August 8, 1995, Evening.**

Susan Bones dropped into her bed, exhausted. She wasn't even sure that she'd be able to get up for dinner later, she was so tired. She had only **thought** she had been tired when she came home in the evenings after working all day with Hannah in the Ministry archives. Ever since Mad-Eye Moody had started coming by to train her and Hannah, the two witches had been run ragged with exercise and drills.

Originally she imagined that maybe she'd learn some cool new spells or interesting tactics. She really should have known better.

Instead, Moody put her and Hannah on a rigorous exercise regimen, followed up by drills that focused on dodging and spellcasting accuracy. When they told him about how Jasmine and Hermione had already started them on accuracy, instructing them about the importance of repetition so they could cast without thinking and hit a target every time, she thought the old auror's face would break in half, his grin was so wide. He was even heard muttering something about knowing those two were good witches. The smile was gone as quickly as it came, though; then he redoubled his demands.

Her last thought before drifting off to sleep was to consider whether she should tell Jasmine and Hermione that Moody had a huge crush on them. When her aunt found her in bed a short time later, she wondered what her niece was dreaming about that would cause her to have such a big smile on her face.

* * *

 **A/N:** I suspect that some readers may be disappointed in the reactions of the Grangers, but you should keep firmly in mind that the date here is 1995, not 2016. The Grangers are, if anything, quite liberal and tolerant for that era. It was only in 1992 that the first Europride festival was held (in London, actually) - the same year that the Isle of Man ended its criminalization of homosexuality (and even then, not entirely, as Pixel and Stephanie Forever has pointed out). It won't be until 1997 that the first lesbian MP comes out publicly. Section 28 of the Local Government Act still banned local authorities from "promoting" homosexuality and schools from presenting homosexuality as an acceptable "pretended family relationship."

The Grangers aren't finding it easy to adjust, but give them a little time. Maybe they'll surprise you.


	10. Fight for your Rights

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Wizards Suck" by . Hermione proves to be a genuine friend by refusing to obey Dumbledore's order to keep Harry isolated after fifth year. H/Hr.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 10 - Fight for your Rights**

 **Monday, August 9, 1995, Morning.**

"Cornelius, is this true?" Dolores Umbridge demanded as she stormed into the office of the Minister for Magic. She didn't see him grimace as she sat down across from him and waved the piece of parchment she'd brought in with her.

"Is what true, Dolores?"

"This!" she said, waving the parchment around a bit more. "I Just got this from the Department for Magical Education. It says that Dumbledore has managed to hire someone for the post of Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but it doesn't say who!"

"Ah, yes," Fudge said carefully. "I got the memo earlier and had it checked out. The report is valid, and as it turns out, there is a provision that authorizes the headmaster to keep the identity of new staff a secret until the first of September. It apparently dates back to a time when people would duel over the honor of teaching at Hogwarts, and this law was created so that new professors wouldn't have to fight to keep their jobs before they even taught their first class. Naturally, the law was never rescinded."

Umbridge huffed in annoyance. "This ruins all of our plans! Even after we discredit that Potter girl, Dumbledore will still be able to plot against us, secure in his castle!"

"Really, Dolores, it's not that bad," Fudge insisted. "I'll admit that you not having the Defense post is a bit of a setback, but there's nothing saying that we can't name you Chief Inquisitor anyway. We just need to get the right directives passed through the Department of Magical Education before classes start. Then, after a week or two, you can show up at the castle and begin to weed out the traitors."

Umbridge brightened. "Why, I do believe you're right, Cornelius. I can't believe I didn't think of that myself."

Fudge smiled and nodded, happy to have reminded his subordinate why he sat behind the big desk and pulled in the big brib... er, salary. "Now tell me," he said, "is everything on track for dealing with Potter?"

"Oh, absolutely," Umbridge answered happily. "All of your allies have been notified about the correct time and place for her trial. I've got all of the charges drawn up and ready to use. I even found a few old incidents in her records that we can add in — the magic she did in the summers before and after her second year, for example."

"Lucky for us you happened to be visiting Mafalda when the reports of their use of magic came in," Fudge said. "Amelia still doesn't suspect a thing, does she?"

"Absolutely not," Umbridge assured him. "John is keeping an eye on things in the DMLE, and he assures me that the entire department is consumed with tracking down Sirius Black. They don't have time for anything else, including Amelia. She won't be able to derail our plan with annoying little loopholes or technicalities."

"Excellent," Fudge said. "And what about that other witch who's coming in with Potter — Grazer?"

"Granger," Umbridge corrected. "She's just a muggleborn, no one of any importance, but she is Potter's friend, so expelling her will make Potter feel even worse. I don't know if this muggleborn's use of magic on the same night was coincidental or if it was part of some sort of organized plot arranged by Dumbledore, but either way we'll be able to make use of it. I can't remember exactly which spells she was recorded as using, since I was paying more attention to Potter…."

"It's of no great consequence, I'm sure," Fudge said with a dismissive wave.

Umbridge nodded. "I have the official list of spells locked up in my office, so we can have them read into the records during the trial."

"Good, good," Fudge said. "Don't let me keep you, I'm sure you still have work to do to ensure that everything goes according to plan."

"Of course, Cornelius," Umbridge simpered as she rose from the chair. "I'll let you know if anything happens." With that comment, she left to return to her preparations while Fudge put his feet up on his desk and returned to reading the Quidditch scores.

* * *

 **Monday, August 9, 1995, Afternoon.**

It wasn't until late Monday that Jasmine and Hermione were able to successfully call Dobby and Winky. The two elves had returned to Britain earlier in the day, but they were tired and didn't think it appropriate to appear before their mistresses until they were actually called. When they were called, though, they were thrilled beyond the ability of words to convey… which was probably why the two elves also produced copious tears and wailing, too.

After they had calmed down a bit but before Hermione could ask how things had gone, she noticed the elves abruptly blink and stare intently at their mistresses for a moment. Then she saw Dobby lean over and whisper to the other elf, "Dobby be thinking that they be knowing." Winky immediately nodded vigorously, sending her ears flapping all over the place.

" **What** are we knowing?" Hermione said with a frown.

Dobby's eyes widened as he stammered, "You, uh... she and…."

"Winky?" Jasmine asked expectantly, but the little elf just whimpered and started pulling on her ears. Suddenly it dawned on Hermione what the problem was.

Jasmine clearly wasn't far behind her. "Did **everyone** know about this bond but us?" she asked irritably. Seeing that the elves were still struggling, she added, "Though I guess we should tell them and put them out of their misery, huh?"

Speaking in unison, they announced, "Jasmine Potter and Hermione Granger share a soul bond." Almost immediately the two elves sagged in relief, finally able to talk openly about the bond they'd long seen developing between their mistresses. Apparently it was a great honor for elves to serve a soul-bonded couple, and this was why they'd grown in stature and power when they themselves had bonded to the witches.

Eventually, Jasmine and Hermione were able to ask their elves how their lessons had gone and what they thought of their muggle teacher.

"Oh, the great Xandy Man be knowing so much about beasties and monsters!" Dobby said enthusiastically.

Winky nodded in agreement. "He be teaching us so much about slaying and carving up magical beasties."

"Killing, too?" Hermione asked disbelievingly.

"Oh, yes," Dobby answered, "Mr. Xandy Man be saying that to harvest a beastie, we must be knowing all about the beastie's biology — innards and outards — and he be teaching us all that by teaching us how best to be slaying them."

"That sounds… creepy," Jasmine said slowly. "Probably effective, but oh so creepy."

"Did you have fun, at least?" Hermione asked. "He didn't work you all the time, did he?"

"Oh, no," Dobby responded. "Mr. Xandy Man be teaching us how to listen to… Country Music."

"The music of pain!" Winky added with wide-eyed sincerity.

Hermione simply sat there, open-mouthed, while Jasmine put her hand over her face in consternation. "I'm going to put my foot down right now," the green-eyed witch said sternly. "If I hear either of you singing about pickup trucks or how your dog died, I'm giving you clothes. Got it?" Both elves nodded fearfully.

Hermione tsked. "She's just kidding about the clothes," she assured them quickly, shooting a reproachful look at her girlfriend. At Jasmine's baleful expression, she amended, "Probably. I think. ...Best not to find out, though, right? Sooo, moving on… do you two think you'll be able to harvest the basilisk?"

When both elves said they could, she continued, "Good, we have a few things we'd like you to do, if you're willing. First, this house needs to be cleaned up - but secretly. Mrs. Weasley wouldn't approve of you helping her kids, I don't think. How easy is it for you to travel back and forth between here and Hogwarts?

"It be... a long way to go," Dobby said hesitantly. "We be stronger than most elves, but the long trip be taking a lot out of us."

"How about you switch every other night?" Jasmine suggested.

"We can be doing that!" Winky replied.

"OK, then," Jasmine said, "if you can, one of you spend an hour or two here every night when everyone's asleep. Make gradual improvements, alright? And don't let anyone see you, especially Sirius' house elf, Kreacher — we're not entirely sure how reliable he is."

When both elves nodded, she went on, "Next is the Chamber of Secrets. Can you get down there on your own?" The elves shook their heads, which caused Jasmine to sigh. "OK, I'll take you there after we return. Once you go down, your priorities will be to clear out the cave-in that Lockhart caused, clean up a little, assess the condition of the basilisk, then find out if there is some other way in and out. If I have to get you in and then get you out all the time, it'll get complicated. Alright?"

"So except for coming here for a couple of hours every night," Hermione clarified, "spend your time doing what you want."

The two elves hugged their witches, switching back and forth several times before finally popping out.

* * *

 **Tuesday, August 10, 1995, Morning.**

Since they now had multiple reasons to talk to the portrait of Elladora Black, Jasmine and Hermione decided to deal with it first thing in the morning. Sirius and Fleur promised to cover for them and run interference if necessary.

"Uh, hi?" Jasmine said hesitantly after Sirius had shut them in.

"Hello, dears," the kind-looking woman in the portrait frame said as she gazed serenely at the two witches. "I've heard ever so much about the two of you, and I must say that I've been hoping to meet you... well, in more of a social way, that is, but Sirius informed me that you'd need to talk to me on a professional level."

"You've heard about us?" Hermione asked, sticking close to Jasmine.

The portrait of Elladora nodded. "I can't give you any details, of course, but Sirius needed to talk about some of the experiences that have hurt him, and as part of that we talked about a lot of different things in his life, good and bad." She smiled warmly. "You two, naturally, were among the good."

Both witches looked pleased at hearing that.

"Why don't you two sit down and tell me what's on your minds," the portrait said while gesturing to two chairs that had been arranged facing the wall.

"Did Sirius tell you anything?" Jasmine asked as she unconsciously shifted her chair slightly closer to Hermione's before sitting down.

"No," Elladora answered, "and I told him not to. I didn't want to prejudice my responses by hearing anything in advance through him. Whatever I learn will depend entirely on what you choose to tell me. And it will remain confidential, of course."

"Can a portrait take a magical oath to keep secrets?" Hermione asked, curious.

"No, dear, I'm afraid not," Elladora said. "Oaths and other bonds attach to a person's magic, which requires the presence of a soul. The same is true with a lot of magic — for example, I know this house is hidden by the _Fidelius_ charm, but I can't be given the secret, nor can I talk to others outside the house about it. Right after I'm told the location, I'll forget it — I'll know that I was told something important, but I won't be able to remember what it was. Just as the secret is hidden in the secret keeper's soul, it must be communicated to another soul to be shared.

"Portraits can, however, be ordered by the head of the house to keep secrets," she went on, "and that's what Sirius has done. He's ordered me to keep everything learned in these sessions confidential, even if he or a future head of house orders me differently. The only exception would be if I learned something that made me think you were in imminent danger of harming yourselves or someone else."

Both girls looked relieved. When they continued to sit in silence, however, Elladora prompted, "So, why don't you start at the beginning, dears? I find that usually works best."

"I… uh, we… killed people a few days ago," Hermione said hesitantly, and Elladora's eyebrows rose. "We were both attacked in our homes — Jasmine by dementors and me by Death Eaters. After Jasmine drove off the dementors, she sensed I was in trouble and apparated to my home, even though she'd never been there."

At that point Elladora would have had to sit down in shock had she not gotten hints from Walburga earlier that there was something unusual about these two… something even beyond what had been obvious to her when they came in. "I killed, uh, five or six of them. Jasmine killed... how many, Jas?"

Jasmine kept staring down at her hands in her lap when she said, "At least four. Maybe more, but I don't know if the two that apparated away lived or not." Hermione reached out and gave Jasmine's arm a quick squeeze.

"And how do you two feel about that?" Elladora asked. "I'm sensing that you're rather upset? Guilty?"

"I do feel guilty," Hermione said, "but not about killing them."

"Oh?"

"No," Hermione said determinedly. "They were going to rape, torture, and kill me and my parents. I don't feel guilty for doing what I had to in order to protect us all. I don't like that I had to do it, and I really hate that I have to fight and kill for my right to simply exist, but I don't feel guilty about it."

"Then...?" Elladora prodded.

Hermione sighed. "I feel guilty that I don't feel guilty. I mean, only a monster doesn't feel guilty about killing people, right?"

"What do you think, Jasmine?" Elladora asked.

"I, uh... well, I guess I feel basically the same way," she said after a moment's hesitation. "I mean, I'd have killed far more if they'd been there, doing the same things. I wouldn't have hesitated. But does that make me a monster, too? I have nightmares many nights and don't sleep well, thinking about what I did."

Elladora smiled sympathetically. "No, my dear. Monsters don't have nightmares about their actions," she said gently. "What you're feeling is not at all unusual — many aurors and others involved in violence have reactions similar to yours. They dislike what they've done, but they don't feel guilty because they know that what they did was necessary. Some, however, have trouble with their **lack** of guilt: they've been taught that violence and killing are wrong, so expect to feel bad about having gone against deeply-ingrained norms and morals. Does that sound about right?"

Jasmine looked troubled. "When I used those spells, I didn't spare a moment's thought for choosing less damaging options — I immediately cast whatever I thought would put those Death Eaters down hard and fast. When I think about that now, though… I wonder if maybe I've forgotten how to be moral or something."

Elladora nodded. "What you have to come to terms with is that for pretty much every moral value, there are circumstances where it doesn't apply. In extreme circumstances, normal rules have a habit of breaking down, and in order to survive, we need to be flexible enough to accept that. Our values and morals exist to serve us — to help us create and maintain social order. We don't exist to serve them."

Hermione spoke up then. "That's basically what I had to deal with when I first started learning how to cast harmful spells. I always knew that there are people who accept the responsibility for using violence to protect the rest of us, but I hadn't thought much about what that meant until I was faced with the choice of becoming such a person myself."

"And I guess this was just the next step, wasn't it?" Jasmine asked. "I'll admit that I accepted the idea that I'd end up having to hurt others much sooner than you did, Hermione, but I never thought much about killing. Even after I realized that I had killed Quirrell in first year, I didn't think about it too much because Dumbledore said he was as good as dead as soon as he allowed himself to become possessed." She paused, then added softly, "This is different, though."

They continued to talk about it for some time, both girls trying to come to terms with questions for which there were no easy answers. Finally Elladora said, "I hope this has helped somewhat — you do seem to understand the issues intellectually. That doesn't mean that you'll instantly feel better, of course. It takes time for such insights to completely sink in and become a part of ourselves. What's more, if you truly are decent, good people at heart, you'll always be a bit bothered by having to use violence. Your conscience niggling at you over such things is proof that you still **have** a conscience, so don't lament that."

For the first time, both Jasmine and Hermione smiled a little.

"The nightmares should pass with time," Elladora continued. "Talking about the details of what you did may help them to pass more quickly."

"The last time I was in a serious fight," Jasmine said, "one of my professors had me explain what I did in order to use that as a teaching tool. We spent time analyzing all of my decisions so I could understand what I could have done better. Looking back, I think that helped me process it all, and my nightmares from that night stopped pretty soon after that."

Elladora smiled. "That's an excellent idea! Talking about your experiences that way creates emotional distance much more quickly — events become an academic problem to solve rather than an emotional trauma. There are a couple of portraits in this house who had extensive dueling experience. I'd be willing to do a session with you while they are in the room, and then have them walk you through your experiences like your professor did. Does that sound like something you'd be interested in?"

"Yes, I think it's worth doing," Jasmine replied. "Even if it doesn't help us get over the nightmares faster, I'd like to think that it will help us improve for the next time — and unfortunately, there will probably be a next time."

Hermione agreed. "Can we wait and do it tomorrow, though? This has already been kind of draining, and I — we — have a lot of things to think about."

"Of course, my dear," Elladora said warmly. "I'll arrange to have the others brought in... tomorrow morning? I recommend that you two take the rest of the day and just relax together. You need to regain some equilibrium."

The two witches thanked the portrait and left, each deep in thought about the things that had been said.

Elladora stared at the closed door for a good long while before softly saying to herself, "If anything, Walburga greatly understated how interesting those two witches are."

* * *

 **Wednesday, August 11, 1995, Morning.**

While Elladora Black was having her second session with Jasmine and Hermione in a sealed room at Grimmauld Place, Amelia Bones was in a sealed room in the Ministry of Magic meeting with her two chief lieutenants. She kept these meetings infrequent so as not to draw undue attention, but events in the Ministry were moving quickly, and she needed the counsel of these two people.

"Alright, we don't have a lot of time for this, so tell me the status of the two new investigations," Amelia said without preamble.

"I had trusted people go over the scene at the Grangers'," Moira said. "I've also personally reviewed the interview done by Moody and Shacklebolt of the two underaged witches involved. And... well, it's rather hard to believe." After reciting the litany of carnage they'd found at the scene, she concluded, "That's a total of ten deaths on site, plus two more who apparated away — after being hit with a massive fireball, so who knows if they lived or not."

Rufus whistled, more than a little impressed. "And all of that was done by those two girls," Amelia asked disbelievingly. "No other assistance?"

"Correct," Moira answered. "And no truly dark spells, either, though a couple were rather borderline. For example, one Death Eater was hit by a strong bone-shattering curse that pulverized all the bones in his midsection. He didn't die instantly, but he didn't last very long, either. We found a hand and part of a forearm, still grasping a wand, that had been severed by a slightly dark cutting curse."

"Anything that would create legal trouble for them?" Amelia asked.

Moira shook her head. "No illegal spells were used by them — that was verified when their wands were checked during the interview. However, several of the spells were quite a bit darker than fifteen-year-old witches are expected to be able to cast. So if — hypothetically speaking, of course — a corrupt Minister had inappropriate influence over a corrupt newspaper, they'd be able to slant stories about the incident in a way that would make the two witches look like the twin second comings of Morgana Le Fay."

Amelia gave a rueful smile, wishing that Moira's little joke hadn't hit so close to the mark. "Unfortunately, I don't think we'll be able to keep all of those details quiet. Is that it?"

"Actually, that's not the most important bit of information," Moira said. "Only two of the dead Death Eaters were on file as having been followers of You-Know-Who back in the 1970s: Crabbe and Goyle. They got off after claiming to be under the Imperius Curse. The rest... well, they were too young to have been involved at the time. That wand that was still in the grasp of a severed hand? It's registered as belonging to one Draco Malfoy, which matches the testimony of both witches that young Draco was there, casting a _Cruciatus_ curse on Miss Granger when he had his hand severed by Miss Potter."

"So you're saying that eight were marked more recently?" Amelia asked intently, the implications clear. "Alright, so now we have another bit of evidence that You-Know-Who is back. Fudge won't accept it, but others might. Unfortunately, I'm sure Fudge won't authorize us to search the homes of those who were killed, not even Crabbe and Goyle, so we'll have to pursue those leads quietly. You're next, Rufus."

"Right, it was definitely dementors that attacked Potter's house," Rufus said. "What's more, based on the evidence Moody brought in, it really does look like Potter killed them both. Well, that or two dementors just happened to spontaneously die and mostly disintegrate outside the same house on the same evening, and coincidentally right after Potter's patronus drove them out."

Moira snorted. "That's actually less believable than her patronus killing them — especially after seeing what she did in the Granger house."

Rufus nodded. "I've only been able to do a little bit of digging here at the Ministry, but I haven't been able to find any evidence of who might have sent them — if, in fact, they were sent by someone here."

"Oh, they were," Amelia said. "There's no way that two rogue dementors just happened to stumble on that house out of all of the houses in muggle Britain." She sighed. "I doubt you'll find anything, though — I'm sure that whoever sent them covered their tracks well."

A moment later Amelia asked, as if merely to satisfy idle curiosity, "Have either of you heard about a hearing for those girls for illegal underage magic?"

"Of course not," Moira said with a frown. "There's no reason for one. It was clear self-defense."

"Sure," Amelia agreed, "but that's only been proven by investigations that we've had to run off the books. Susan got a letter the other day from Miss Granger, who said that she and Miss Potter received expulsion letters. From **us**. It was only due to Dumbledore's personal efforts that the immediate expulsion was rescinded and a hearing granted." Her voice grew hard. "For some reason, though, my office hasn't been officially notified — even though the people who send those letters work under **me**."

Amelia's anger was obvious, and the other two wisely remained silent. "Alright," she continued brusquely, "I'll need you to wrap this up by Thursday so I will have everything for the hearing on Friday. Someone is setting those two witches up to take a fall, and I want to be there to ruin their day."

"Oh, and one more thing," she said as the other two got up to leave. "Have you been keeping Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Moody informed about this?"

"No, not beyond the evidence they brought in personally," Moira answered "The same is true with the people I had go back to investigate. We know you want this kept quiet, so we don't chat about it. And all the documents and evidence are sealed up tight."

"Good," Amelia said. "I want you to keep those three out of the loop on this. And on anything else sensitive, too."

"Why?" Rufus asked, his brow furrowing. "They're all good people. Trustworthy, too. I'm certain they aren't reporting to Fudge, nor do their sympathies lie with Death Eaters."

"No, but I suspect that their sympathies lie with Dumbledore," Amelia said, "possibly even up to the point of reporting to him. I should have seen it when the events surrounding those two were first brought to me, but I missed it. Dumbledore may be on our side in a lot of ways, but I don't want confidential DMLE information leaking out to anyone — not even him. Got it?"

* * *

 **Wednesday, August 11, 1995, Evening.**

"You kids will have to leave the kitchen early, I'm afraid," Mrs. Weasley said as she used her wand to clear away the dinner dishes and birthday cake from Ginny's abbreviated birthday party. "There's an Order meeting starting shortly."

"Order of the Phoenix?" Hermione asked, and Mrs. Weasley nodded.

"That reminds me," Jasmine said, "I keep meaning to ask: what's going on with Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and the Order, anyway? What's he doing? What are you doing? What exactly is happening?"

"That's not your concern," Mrs. Weasley said briskly. "You're just children, and this is something adult witches and wizards have to handle."

Both younger witches narrowed their eyes at being treated so dismissively. Jasmine turned to her godfather and fixed him with an intent look. "Sirius? Will you tell me what's going on?"

"Absolutely not!" Mrs. Weasley shouted from across the kitchen. "He has no business telling you such things, either."

"Quite the contrary, Mrs. Weasley," Jasmine said sharply. "Sirius is my godfather, and as such he's the **only** person here with the legal or moral authority to decide what I should and should not know." Because she was looking at Mrs. Weasley, she missed how Sirius sat up a bit straighter at hearing her so openly assert his guardianship.

"It would be irresponsible to tell you such things," the older witch argued. "You're far too young!"

Normally Jasmine liked Molly Weasley, but honestly, this was getting to be too much. _Time for a reality check,_ she thought grimly. With deceptive casualness, she asked, "Mrs. Weasley, how many Death Eaters have you killed this month?"

Into the shocked silence that followed, Jasmine continued, "By my count, I'm up to four. How 'bout you, Hermione?"

Without missing a beat, Hermione replied in the same tone, "Five, I think. Though we sort of got that last one together. You also chased off those Dementors, too."

Jasmine snapped her fingers. "You're right — can't forget the Dementors!"

Mrs. Weasley, who had been gaping like a fish up to this point, finally found her voice. "You can't possibly be so... so **cavalier** about killing people like that!" she spluttered, aghast.

"Of course I'm not," Jasmine retorted, her face turning bleak. "And I have the nightmares to prove it. My point, in case it wasn't obvious, is that no matter how old we may be, we're already in this up to our necks. We have been since we were firsties, unfortunately. They're not going to stop coming for us just because **you've** decided that we're too young to be involved."

"Keeping us ignorant isn't going to keep us safe," Hermione insisted. "We're not saying that we deserve to know absolutely everything that everyone is doing — that would be silly. But arguing that it's for our own good that we be kept completely ignorant is just as silly. If there's one thing that's certain, it's that we'll be in danger again in the future, and we won't be able to protect ourselves if we don't at least have some idea of what's going on."

Sirius nodded and finally joined the conversation. "They're right, Molly." She looked like she was going to try arguing again, but Sirius interrupted her, "No, they shouldn't know everything, but they aren't asking for that — which actually shows a bit of maturity. You cannot deny that this affects them, possibly more than it affects any of us, as a matter of fact. And as Jasmine's godfather, I believe that she at least should get some basic information about what's going on."

Emma and Lindsey traded a look, then Lindsey said, "We agree with you, Sirius. We understand the need to keep some information in as few hands as possible, but not everything. If you don't get information into the hands of trustworthy people who can use it, you condemn them to making poor decisions. So we agree to Hermione hearing whatever you think is appropriate for Jasmine." He reached out and put a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "After all, given how much they're together, whatever happens to one will likely impact the other." Jasmine and Hermione leaned almost imperceptibly closer to one another, and neither noticed the slightly sad, uncertain expressions on the faces of Hermione's parents.

Mrs. Weasley looked around at the faces arrayed against her and finally slumped a little in defeat. "Maybe you do have a point," she conceded, a hint of the terrible fear she must have felt creeping into her voice. Then she shook herself and straightened. "But just because you let those two hear about such things doesn't mean I'll subject my own children to the same." She turned to the side of the table that seemed to have been designated the "Ginger Seating Area" and announced, "All of you, upstairs."

"But Mum," Ron whinged, "I'm just as old as they are!"

"Yeah," chimed in the twins simultaneously. "And we're of age!"

"But none of you are members of the Order," their mother retorted, "So all of you, leave. Now!" Her shrill voice brooked no argument, so they all trudged out of the kitchen, muttering under their breath.

Once they were gone, Sirius began, "So, do you have any specific questions?"

"Just, well, what do we know about what Voldemort's been doing since the graveyard?" Jasmine asked.

"As far as we can tell, not much," Sirius said. "Some recruitment of new followers, which is hardly surprising, and very recently he started looking for... well, something that he thinks will help him. Something he didn't have in the last war."

"A weapon?" Emma asked.

"Sirius..." Mrs. Weasley said warningly before her husband put a calming hand on her arm.

Sirius held up a hand to the ginger witch and said, "That's not something I can give you greater details about. I'm not sure if it can truly be called a weapon in the normal sense, but maybe that label isn't too far off, either. Regardless, he didn't even start looking for it until recently. Or maybe he only recently started doing things that we could notice. Before that, though, he didn't seem to be doing much of anything for quite some time."

"What about you and this 'Order' group?" Lindsey asked. "What are you doing to fight him?"

"We're doing two things, primarily," Sirius answered. "First is keeping an eye on what the enemy is doing. Second is recruiting our own members and allies."

There was a long pause.

"That's it?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"What else do you think we can do?" Mrs. Weasley asked, not expecting the younger witch to have any serious suggestions.

"What about his resources?" Lindsey pointed out. "Any political or military campaign needs resources — finances, weapons, medical supplies, that sort of thing. Can you do anything about that? Reduce what he has? Reduce what he can get in the future? That's in addition to stockpiling your own resources: money, potions, potion ingredients, weapons, armor, etc."

"Then there's the question of political and popular support," Emma added. "If you can undermine support for his goals and tactics, you'll make it harder for him to act. Is there anything that can be done there? A public relations campaign against him, his followers, and his ideas?"

"Not just political support here at home," Lindsey noted, "but also abroad. Have you talked to any contacts abroad to get support, resources, intelligence, or anything else? Maybe just to ensure he is not recruiting abroad?"

"And of course training," Jasmine said. "People fought Death Eaters last time, right?" When Sirius nodded, Jasmine continued, "Then you can be sure there will be fighting this time. That means people need to train. Even just a bit of extra practice will help, though the more, the better. People need to practice spells they know and maybe learn a few new ones."

"We had plans to learn self-defense to help give us a chance if we were attacked," Emma said, "but we'd only just had a couple of lessons before the actual attack happened — and even then, it happened so fast that I don't think we would have been able to do much even if we'd had a year of lessons. The reality of a magical attack is much different from the theory, especially for muggles who have never seen anything like it. I'd like to think that giving witches and wizards a few lessons on how to deal with such attacks might help them.

"What about protection for people?" Hermione asked. "I'm sure ours won't be the last home attacked, so maybe it would be a good idea to have safe houses? Maybe stocked with food and potions? How about protective clothing? Emergency portkeys? Lessons about how to protect a home? This is much like a safe house, but you can't bring everyone here."

Molly, Arthur, and Sirius all looked at each other in surprise. Apparently no one had yet made such suggestions, and in retrospect, it all seemed so obvious.

It was then that members of the Order started coming in, so the non-members gave up their seats and headed for other rooms in the house. More than one heard Hermione mutter "stupid wizards" under her breath as she left and wondered what that was all about.

* * *

After the Order meeting, which Sirius described as being a complete waste of time, he met Jasmine and Hermione in the library in order to test their Occlumency skills. Fleur joined them because she wanted Sirius to test her as well, since she hadn't had a chance to work on those skills with a non-veela.

After several minutes of staring intently into the eyes of each of the two younger witches, he officially declared them to be "not bad" given how long they'd been working on it. He was actually surprised that they were as good as they were, especially since they hadn't been able to do anything but solo work since the beginning of July.

When it came time to test Fleur, he was even more impressed. "I think you might be better than me," he admitted a bit ruefully. "That makes me even happier that you'll be at Hogwarts this coming year, because it means that these two will have someone on hand to help them with this skill."

"Zank you," Fleur replied. "Occlumency is very important among the veela because ze more mental control we have, ze better we are able to control our allure, too."

"Ah, that explains why I never feel anything around you," Sirius said. "Here I was thinking that I was simply incredibly impressive, despite my time in prison."

Fleur smiled mischievously at him but didn't say anything. After a few moments, Sirius began licking his lips. "Is it, uh, getting hot in here?" he asked as he pulled at his collar. Then he grinned at Fleur and leaned forward, trying to take her hand in his own.

Fleur pulled back and sat up straight, then Sirius abruptly shook his head and seemed to come back to himself as a sheepish expression appeared on his face.

"Uh, if you'll excuse me, I, uh, I think I'll go to bed now," Sirius muttered as he stood and quickly walked out of the library, trying to ignore the giggling witches behind him.

* * *

 **Thursday, August 12, 1995, Late Night.**

Albus Dumbledore yawned as he gathered together the last of the parchment he'd been studying. He didn't know exactly what Cornelius had planned for the next day, but he knew it couldn't be good, and he'd been working to prepare himself as best he could for any eventuality — taking a lot of time away from other tasks that desperately needed his attention, too. Yet it was imperative that the hearing for Miss Potter and Miss Granger arrive at a favorable result.

As bad as Cornelius' denialism had been so far, crippling the Girl Who Lived by taking her wand and magic would be an unmitigated disaster. If the decision at the hearing went against them, he knew he could call in Fawkes to save the two witches, but such an act would cause events to spiral completely out of control. He, too, would become a wanted fugitive, and they'd all have to go into hiding or leave Britain entirely. And not just the three of them, but many of those even remotely connected to them, like the Weasley family.

 _That would give Cornelius unchecked power over both the Ministry_ _ **and**_ _Hogwarts, which would be just as good as handing them over to Tom_ , Dumbledore mused. _He wouldn't even have to act openly — he would simply use one or more of his followers to influence Cornelius, who would then do whatever he was told._

 _No, there are no good outcomes that would result from a decision against the girls_ , he concluded. _Yet despite the law being completely on their side, victory isn't assured, especially since I have no direct witnesses whose testimony would be accepted. I'll have to rely on my powers of persuasion more than even_ _ **I'm**_ _comfortable with. Perhaps I should have done something to replace Cornelius sooner_ , he thought, _but I never gave much thought to how his pliability would be used so effectively against me like this._

Dumbledore yawned once again as he looked around, checking one last time to make sure there was nothing he'd missed. _At least I'll get a couple of hours sleep before I have to head to the Ministry…._


	11. And Justice For All

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that you're all enjoying it. And as always. a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Broken Wand, Broken Chains" by Squirrel of Shadow. Harry is convicted at his sham of a trial and has his wand broken. Instead of leading to tragedy, however, this actually leads to the best outcome.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 11 - ...And Justice For All**

 **Friday, August 13, 1995, Morning.**

"Say, Hermione," Jasmine said as they and Mr. Weasley walked down the street to the visitors' entrance to the Ministry of Magic. "Did you notice today's date?"

"Date?" Hermione asked. "What about it? It's... ugh!" She groaned in annoyance. "Great. Just great."

"What's wrong with the date?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Friday the thirteenth?" Jasmine said. When Mr. Weasley continued to look at her quizzically, she went on, "I guess it's a muggle thing. In the muggle world, at least, this date is considered very unlucky for some reason."

"Is it really?" Mr. Weasley said, his eyes brightening. "How fascinating! Do muggles have lots of unlucky dates? What about lucky dates?

"Uh, not that I know of," Hermione answered. "I guess this isn't an unlucky day for witches and wizards?"

"Not at all," Mr. Weasley said as they arrived at a phone booth. "The number thirteen is arithmantically important, so this date might be auspicious for certain endeavors, but beyond that it isn't significant at all."

Once they had all taken the bizarre elevator to the atrium and the witches had handed over their wands — something they did with great reluctance because they were worried about ever getting them back again — Mr. Weasley started taking them up to his office, where they'd wait for their 9AM hearing. Part way there, though, he received a message that seemed to upset him greatly.

"This is bad," Mr. Weasley muttered as they hurried down a nondescript hall. "Very bad indeed." The girls looked at each other anxiously, all too aware that anything that could pull Mr. Weasley out of his perpetual good humor had to be pretty dire.

"Can you explain to us what's going on?" Jasmine asked.

"They rescheduled for an hour earlier. We'll barely get you there before it starts, and the sole reason for that is because you came in early at my normal work time," he answered. "Had you come just before the hearing was supposed to start, like most do, you'd have missed it entirely, and they'd have ruled against you without you ever being able to defend yourselves. As it is, I don't know if Dumbledore will get here in time."

Both witches blanched, but he wasn't done. "Even worse is the fact that this is being held in a courtroom, not a Ministry office like a normal hearing. I think you two are being put on trial before the Wizengamot, which will be much more difficult for you to get through successfully. Fudge isn't just trying to force a conviction — I think he's doing it in as public and humiliating a manner as possible. Even if you somehow win, your reputations might still end up being trashed as a result."

Jasmine's fists clenched tight as she realized how much worse their situation was than she had imagined — and she had a pretty good imagination for bad things happening to her, given how often they occurred. Hermione gripped Jasmine's arm, both to offer and receive comfort. "We'll manage," the brunette witch said with more confidence than she felt.

More softly, she added, "Remember to stay calm. The last thing we need is for you... well, for either of us to fly off in a rage." Jasmine nodded. After learning about their soul bond, they had come to understand that their at times tenuous emotional control was a symptom of the bond still being incomplete. Having Jasmine blow up at the trial and set the walls to shaking wouldn't do them any favors — especially since it wouldn't exactly be appropriate for Hermione to jump up and kiss her to calm her down.

* * *

Mr. Weasley couldn't enter with them, and when they walked alone into the courtroom, it was like nothing they'd ever seen. The large, circular room had what appeared to be one area for the Wizengamot, judging by the formal robes of all the people seated there, and on the other side was additional seating for an audience. It was packed, indicating the Fudge had made a point of spreading news of the trial — and probably only to supporters, which meant that they'd not likely find any allies on either side of the room.

In the middle were two plain wooden seats, both of which had an ominous air about them.

"Ah, so you finally decided to grace us with your presence?" Fudge drawled. "We were about to get started without you, figuring that you had decided not to bother answering the charges. I'm glad to see that you have at least a little bit of sense after all."

The two witches shared a worried look. They had known that Fudge would be out to get them, but the level of hostility in his voice was beyond anything they had expected. They both jumped when the doors behind them slammed closed, then jumped again when Fudge shouted at them.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he demanded. "Sit down!" He pointed at the plain wooden seats in the middle of the room. The girls nervously made their way to the chairs. Once they sat down, leather restraints and chains magically appeared and bound them, preventing them from moving much at all.

"We wouldn't want you to run again, now would we?" Fudge sneered from his seat above them. "You two will sit right there and accept your punishment for your crimes."

Turning to the figure next to him, he said, "Weatherby, read the charges." That was when they realized that it was Ron's brother, Percy, who was assisting the Minister. Jasmine narrowed her eyes, angry that a Weasley would betray friends and family like that.

Sitting ramrod straight, Percy read in an officious manner: "Jasmine Potter and Hermione Granger are charged with multiple violations of the statute on the Reasonable Restriction on Underage Magic, of using spells in a muggle area and in front of muggles in violation of the Statute of Secrecy, and of fleeing the scenes of their crimes in order to avoid Ministry prosecution. Hermione Granger is further charged with using dark magic."

"Once we reveal the evidence we have from the Improper Use of Magic Office, this won't take long at all," Fudge declared with a shark-like smile, but before he could continue the doors flew open. Craning their necks around, the girls could make out the figure of Albus Dumbledore as he strode in. Despite their many issues with the old man, just at that moment they were exceedingly relieved to see him. Hopefully he'd manage to put an end to the proceedings — given the hostility of the faces around them, they had little confidence that their recent study of the law would help them now.

"I apologize for my tardiness," Dumbledore announced, "but for some reason I wasn't notified about either the change in time or venue for this... well, it was supposed to be a simple hearing on underage magic, but as I look around, it seems to me that we have a full trial before the Wizengamot — something quite unheard of for what should be a straightforward matter."

"Yes, well, given Miss Potter's lengthy record of violating the law," Fudge said, "it was deemed necessary to make sure she understood that actions have consequences. And as for your tardiness, I'm afraid that we can't be held responsible for your inattention to your owl mail."

"Did I say you were responsible, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked mildly as he gazed up at the sputtering minister. "No, I'm confident your owl simply got lost or something. Quite understandable, really," he said with an airy wave. He then turned slowly, looking at all the people gathered. "I think we can continue, yes?"

Fudge looked agitated at Dumbledore's words, but he quickly recovered and called forth Mafalda Hopkirk, an assistant at the Improper Use of Magic Office, to testify about what she saw and how she handled the situation. With a bit of prompting and several leading questions from Fudge, Hopkirk explained how and when the Ministry sensors detected the use of magic at both houses, how she sent out letters which soon returned, then finally how she sent them out again the next day.

Once she was done, Fudge asked to have lists of the spells entered into evidence, but Dumbledore interrupted to say, "Perhaps I could be allowed to ask a few questions of the witness before she's dismissed?"

The sound of quiet conversations in the audience increased slightly as Fudge waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, very well, if you insist. I don't see what the point is, though. You're simply wasting everyone's time."

Dumbledore ignored Fudge's comment as he turned to Hopkirk. "Did you record any spells cast by anyone else at either of those locations?"

"No, we don't do that," Hopkirk answered. "We only monitor the spells cast by underage witches and wizards."

"Really, Dumbledore," Fudge asked scornfully, "are you suggesting that the Ministry monitor the activity of every witch and wizard across all of Britain? I don't think that anyone would stand for such a loss of privacy!" Murmurs of agreement arose from all around the courtroom.

The headmaster brushed aside Fudge's grandstanding and asked, "Why wasn't anyone sent to investigate the circumstances under which those spells were cast?"

For the first time Hopkirk looked uncomfortable, but after a long moment of squirming and looking to Fudge as if for guidance, she finally said, "We were told early in the summer that it wasn't necessary. That Potter and her friends were just troublemakers." There were unhappy mutterings around the courtroom in the wake of that admission. Both Jasmine and Hermione seethed at learning how far the Ministry had gone to set them up — and moreover, that if someone had been sent to help Hermione sooner, she and her parents might have been spared being tortured.

"And why was that?" Dumbledore asked.

"Because, Dumbledore," Fudge interrupted, "while **you** may favor Potter by running to help her any time she causes trouble, that doesn't mean that the rest of this government needs to do the same. When there is no report of a problem, there's no need for the Ministry to waste resources by sending valuable employees to check on every muggleborn or muggle-raised child that chooses to violate our society's most basic laws. All that's necessary is for them to be taught a lesson — or, if necessary, expelled from our community so they won't pose a threat to the Statute of Secrecy ever again!"

Dumbledore continued to ignore Fudge and asked, "Since you didn't send out anyone to investigate, you can't say for certain whether anyone else was there casting spells or not, can you?"

Hopkirk tried to say no, but Fudge cut her off by demanding, "Who, Dumbledore? Who else could possibly have been there?"

At this point Jasmine and Hermione had had their fill of the pompous politician's blustering. Almost simultaneously, Jasmine said loudly, "Dementors came into the house and attacked!" while Hermione said, "My family and I were attacked by a large group of Death Eaters!" Dumbledore looked at them both for a moment, then turned back to the Wizengamot and held out his hands wide, as if to say, "There you go."

Fudge, though, snorted derisively. "Do you really expect us to believe such fantastical tales from two troublemaking teen witches? Witches that you, Dumbledore, have been unable or unwilling to control despite their long, sordid history of acting out? **We** are not so gullible. **We** are not so easily led astray."

"Or perhaps they are telling the truth, Cornelius," Dumbledore calmly responded. "Perhaps they were attacked by dementors and dark wizards. And if they were, that's something we should all be worried about because it means that none of us is truly safe, not even in our own homes."

"Then where is your evidence, Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded. "Dementors are controlled by the Ministry, and last time I checked none had gone missing. As for so-called 'dark wizards,' we've received no reports or complaints about any bands of dark wizards attacking anyone, so there's no basis for imagining that they could be to blame." Jasmine wanted to shout out that she had made just such a report, but a quick look from Dumbledore caused her to remain silent.

"While I was at the scene, two cloaks were discovered..." Dumbledore tried to say, but Fudge simply talked over him.

"Cloaks? What cloaks? Do you have them here, now? Do you actually expect us to believe that two dementors just happened to leave their cloaks behind?"

"Hem, hem," came a noise from behind Fudge, cutting his questions short. A diminutive, round, pink-clad witch raised her hand and asked, "Excuse me, but surely you're not suggesting that the Ministry of Magic is unable to control the dementor population? Surely you're not implying that people need to fear being attacked in their very homes by roving bands of dark wizards?"

"See?" Fudge said as he slammed his palm on the table in front of him, "This is exactly what we've been reading about in the _Daily Prophet_ for over a month now. This is nothing more than fear mongering, obviously designed to shake the people's confidence in the Ministry, possibly for the purpose of bringing down our entire government!"

"Yet despite all of your complaints, Cornelius," Dumbledore said in a tone that was still amazingly calm, "you cannot deny that you have not conducted any sort of investigation into what happened to Miss Potter and Miss Granger."

"To what end?" Fudge demanded. "We have the evidence of their use of magic, despite being underaged. They don't even deny it! This isn't the first time for Potter, either! Without some sort of formal complaint and evidence that something happened to her, there's no reason for the Ministry of Magic to run around, catering to the whims of attention-seeking students of yours."

"People I trust visited both scenes," Dumbledore interjected, finally starting to show impatience. "And they informed me..."

"Hearsay!" Fudge shouted. "Nothing but hearsay! I see no need to continue this proceeding indefinitely while you and your students continue to spin more and more fantastical tales. Maybe next you'll blame it on dragons, perhaps? No, it's time that we finish this so people can go back to their important and valuable jobs." Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other, scared now — they hadn't known what to expect today, but it certainly wasn't this.

Before Fudge could do whatever he intended, the doors to the courtroom once again banged open and Amelia Bones swept in, flanked by at least a half dozen wizards and witches wearing red robes. "It seems that someone forgot to inform me that a hearing on this matter was even being held, much less that it had been turned into a full-blown trial," she announced to the room at large.

"I'm sorry, Amelia," the pink-clad witch said condescendingly, "but we can't run around behind you, trying to ensure that you make it to all of your meetings."

"You should, however, make certain that people are given notification about important meetings and changes," Bones shot back.

"You were!" the witch insisted, her voice rising.

"It seems that I wasn't the only one who failed to receive proper notification as required by law," Dumbledore observed. When the head of the DMLE raised a questioning eyebrow, he added, "I just happened to be in the Ministry very early today and so managed to avoid being very late.

"Auror Proudfoot!" Madam Bones barked out. One of the red-robed men behind her stepped forward and she continued, "There's been tampering with Ministry communications. You're to go to the offices of the Minister for Magic and begin your investigation into all communications sent from those offices to determine which ones are being interfered with and by whom. This is your sole task until you have answers — and I want your initial report on my desk first thing Monday morning."

"Yes ma'am!" he said before he spun on his heel and left.

"You... you..." Fudge sputtered. "You can't do that!"

"Actually, Minister, I'm **required** to do that," Bones said sternly, causing him to go still. "Your own undersecretary has just effectively informed me that the security of Ministry communications has been compromised. Ministry communications are fundamental to the integrity of the Ministry itself! If someone can intercept our internal messages, that's bad enough, but it's also just a step away from being able to forge or alter existing messages and pass them along as genuine."

Jasmine and Hermione could see concerned expressions all around them as the implications struck home. "That's why even a **suspicion** of such interference has to be investigated by the DMLE," Bones continued. "The law requires it. But don't worry — I assure you that I'll catch whomever is responsible and see to it that they are punished to the fullest extent of the law."

She seemed to ignore Fudge's stricken expression when she turned to give Jasmine and Hermione an encouraging look, then asked Dumbledore for an update on the trial. Others in both the Wizengamot and the audience caught it, however, and there was more than a little muttering.

"Cornelius was just trying to explain why it isn't necessary for the Ministry to investigate the circumstances under which Miss Potter and Miss Granger used magic," Dumbledore informed her.

"It's the responsibility of those two to prove that they had good reasons to use magic," Fudge insisted, suddenly remembering that he had a trial to win, "not to spin lies and fantasies to us!"

"It's a good thing that I did investigate, then," Bones said smoothly while Fudge and the pink-clad witch blinked at her in surprise. Pulling several sheaves of parchment from her satchel, she continued, "The first incident occurred when Miss Potter and her relatives were attacked by dementors."

Before she could get any further, the hostile witch in pink interrupted, "Hem, hem. Since you arrived so late, Amelia, you couldn't know that we've already dismissed her testimony because the word of a single attention-seeking, underaged witch isn't sufficient to prove anything."

Jasmine's hands curled into fists at once again being insulted by that horrid, ugly person. "My relatives were almost kissed by those dementors!" she blurted out. "They can testify, too."

Fudge scoffed, "Muggles can't even see dementors, so their testimony won't be accepted either."

"Fortunately, we don't need their testimony," Bones announced. "We have the cloaks and other remains left behind when the dementors were apparently killed by Miss Potter's patronus."

"Killed?" the pink-clad witch asked incredulously. "Dementors can't be killed — everyone knows that. Perhaps someone has confunded you, my dear?" Jasmine and Hermione were equally confused, not having heard anything about this.

"Apparently what everyone knows is wrong, Madam Umbridge," Bones said. "I have here affidavits from aurors and an Unspeakable that the cloaks and remains most likely came from two dementors. If they were not in fact killed, then something rather strange happened to them." With a silent wave of her wand, Bones duplicated the page she had been holding and caused the copies to fly out to the members of the Wizengamot. She remained silent for a few long moments as they digested the summarized information, and there was quite a bit of distressed murmuring.

"Next," Bones announced, "was the Death Eater attack on Miss Granger and her family."

"The word of a single mud... uh, muggleborn carries no weight here," the woman, now identified as Umbridge, tried to insist, though Jasmine and Hermione could tell that she was faltering.

"I was there too!" Jasmine cried out.

"That doesn't matter," Fudge said, sounding less sure of himself now. "You are a... a known attention seeker. Without a reliable eyewitness..."

"I think that the bodies of ten marked Death Eaters is sufficient evidence to prove that there was a magical attack," Bones interrupted.

"Bodies?" Fudge asked, paling a bit. Evidently no one had told him about this.

"Or pieces thereof," Bones added.

"Pieces?" Umbridge asked weakly.

Bones nodded, once again duplicating a piece of parchment and sending the copies flying out to the members of the Wizengamot.

"If they were both there and they both killed wizards, then they are both guilty of murder!" Umbridge suddenly cried, appearing to believe that she'd finally come up with a way to salvage Fudge's case.

"Please, Dolores," Bones said in an exasperated tone. "It's not murder when you're defending yourself and your family against hostile intruders who are intent on torture, kidnapping, and/or murder. And that happens to be exactly what our investigation points to: these two witches defended themselves against a force of older, more experienced wizards who were only there for the purpose of harming them. You'd know all of this already if you hadn't prevented Mafalda Hopkirk from sending a team to investigate — as is standard procedure!"

She turned to Hopkirk and addressed her directly. "You can, but are not expected to, send out investigators for reports of most simple spells, because it is assumed that no one was harmed. Even in those cases, however, it's expected that at least an Obliviator will be sent out in case muggles witnessed the magic. When more serious spells are detected, however, an investigation team complete with at least one Obliviator is a requirement!" Hopkirk looked down at her feet and nodded silently.

"How... how could a half-blood and a muggleborn..." Umbridge mumbled before shaking her head and continuing, "It doesn't matter! We already know that they cast dark spells. Your report confirms it, too! That means they are **both** guilty of Dark magic! Those are Dark Witches sitting there who need to be punished!"

"We thoroughly investigated the incidents," Bones declared, "and no illegal spells were cast by either witch. That was verified by having their wands checked by a senior auror, by the way. They may have used spells that we don't normally see teen witches using, but they didn't cast anything illegal."

While Umbridge spluttered, Fudge asked, "How did you investigate all of this? You shouldn't... I mean, you can't—" He checked himself abruptly.

"Why, Minister!" Bones exclaimed in feigned shock, "Are you suggesting that the DMLE shouldn't be investigating major crimes?" Her voice suddenly lost any trace of humor. "Or perhaps that we shouldn't be **able** to investigate major crimes, given how your office has recently been interfering with our ability to investigate anything at all?"

"What are you implying here?" Umbridge demanded.

"Oh, I'm not implying anything," Bones answered. "I'm simply providing evidence in a case that never should have gone to trial in the first place — and never would have, in fact, if proper procedures had been followed. What's more, now that we have a clear string of related major crimes, all involving Unforgivable curses and attempted murder, I'll be combining them and putting most of my department on trying to solve them."

Fudge and Umbridge refused to respond to that, so Dumbledore stepped into the growing silence to say, "You will have my full support, Amelia, to pursue those investigations. If you lack the appropriate funding or personnel, I'm confident that a special session of the Wizengamot can be arranged so our government can get them for you." He looked back up at Fudge before continuing, "Perhaps the Wizengamot can divert funds from some of the less critical projects going on. After all, we cannot afford to stand idly by while dark wizards and dark creatures attack our children, can we?"

After a long moment during which the only noise was some angry muttering among the Wizengamot members, Dumbledore said more sharply, " **Can** we, Cornelius?"

No longer full of bluster and confidence, Fudge simply shook his head. Dumbledore seemed to think that that would suffice for now and called for a vote on the guilt of the two young witches. Only Fudge, Umbridge, and a small handful of others voted in favor of conviction; everyone else voted to declare Jasmine and Hermione innocent.

With a slithering clank, the chains and other restraints immediately pulled back, freeing the two relieved witches. Released from their own constraints, the audience members erupted into noisy chatter as the girls approached their defenders while trying to rub some feeling back into their wrists and arms.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said simply. He inclined his head gravely.

"Yeah, and thanks, Madam Bones!" Jasmine added. "We were getting kind of worried there for a bit."

"You're very welcome," Bones responded with unexpected warmth, "but you owe your thanks mostly to Susan. It's because of her that I knew this was happening. Without that, I wouldn't have been prepared and probably wouldn't have even been here. Fortunately, though, I ran my investigations without anyone noticing and so could bring the evidence here today."

"We'll be sure to thank her, then," Hermione said.

Bones turned to Dumbledore. "We should talk soon about what resources I'll need to pursue these investigations. I'm sorry, by the way, that you had to come in here and face this lot without any of the relevant evidence. I of course wanted to keep my investigations secret, and so long as this was supposed to be a simple hearing, it wasn't necessary to let anyone else in on what we had discovered. Had I known that a full trial was to be conducted, I'd have ensured that they had proper counsel, complete with all necessary evidence."

"That's quite alright, Amelia," he responded genially, though there was a troubled look in his eyes. "You couldn't have known what he had planned, and it all worked out in the end. As for meeting, perhaps we should get together this afternoon? I may not have the same power I did even at the beginning of this summer, but I will use what influence I have left to help you." When she agreed, the old headmaster turned back to the younger witches and said, "Congratulations — I'm glad we could beat this. It was going far worse than I had hoped it would, and I think it's primarily thanks to Amelia here that it turned out as well as it did." He sighed sadly, looking older and much more tired than they ever remembered seeing him.

Finally, he continued, "I still have a great deal to do in the Ministry today, I'm afraid. Arthur will take you back — I believe he's waiting for you outside. Hopefully I'll be done in time for the little party which I suspect Molly is planning even as we speak." With a nod and a smile, he exited the courtroom alongside Madam Bones, the girls following along soon after.

* * *

 **Friday, August 13, 1995, Afternoon.**

"This is a disaster! A complete disaster!" Fudge raged as he stomped back and forth in his office. Rather than try to talk to him immediately, Dolores Umbridge poured them both large measures of aged firewhiskey from the Minister's private stock. "Not only did we lose, but we lost in front of most of my closest allies! And more than a few neutral members of the Wizengamot!"

He abruptly stopped to look at her. "And what about those missing messages? Will Amelia be able to find anything?"

"Absolutely not," Umbridge insisted, remaining calm. He fixed her with a withering glare before returning to his pacing, still muttering about how much of a disaster the day had been.

"It may have gone badly today, but we haven't lost yet," she finally said.

"What?" he asked as he stopped his pacing again.

"We haven't lost yet," Umbridge repeated. "Not completely, at any rate. There is still more we can do — that is, assuming you still intend to send me to Hogwarts this coming year."

That finally seemed to get through to him. "Yes, you're right, there's still more we can do!" He went behind his desk, sat down, and pulled out some blank parchment. "There's a lot we can do, in fact. Even though you won't be taking the Defense post, you will still have authority in the school. As much authority as I can give you! And you'll use that authority to stamp out the sedition, disloyalty, and rebellion that Dumbledore has been breeding in the castle. Stamp it out, I say!"

Something that might have been a smile played across Umbridge's face as she sipped her firewhiskey. Today had been quite a setback, no doubt about it, but she wasn't out of the fight yet. Soon, she'd make Potter and Granger pay.

* * *

 **Friday, August 13, 1995, Evening.**

That evening, there was a celebration at Grimmauld Place as everyone congratulated the two girls on their legal victory. Jasmine and Hermione were asked to recount this or that part of the trial multiple times by different people, even though neither of them had ultimately done much — they had been almost as much spectators at their own trial as people in the gallery. They did, however, graciously oblige everyone because they appreciated the support.

"I'm really surprised that Dumbledore was losing so badly there at the end," Tonks said after they had told the story to her.

"With him in charge of our case, we nearly had our wands snapped," Jasmine groused, but she was prevented from launching into a rant by Hermione putting her hand on her arm.

"It really didn't look like it was his fault," Hermione pointed out. "At least, not entirely. I'll admit to being disappointed, too, but based on what Madam Bones said, she was keeping a lot of evidence secret while she ran her investigation. If the Headmaster had had that information, I'm sure he would have done a lot better."

"Yeah, I suppose," Jasmine said grudgingly.

"So she ran an investigation after all?" Tonks asked. "I was hoping she would, but after Shack, Moody, and I submitted our evidence, we never heard anything more about it. We were afraid that Fudge had managed to suppress it all or something. I know Dumbledore was worried about that, too, but still hoped that he'd be able to persuade the panel at the hearing that he was right."

"Maybe he could have, if it had just been a small panel," Hermione said. "Especially if it was people he knew. As a full Wizengamot trial, though..."

"Stacked with Fudge supporters, no less," Jasmine added.

Tonks frowned. "He didn't stand a chance, I suppose. Lucky for us Madam Bones did investigate. I guess that's why she kept it secret, even from us — she didn't want to take any risks." She still sounded troubled, however. When Hermione and Jasmine talked about it later, they concluded that it was probably just her becoming disillusioned over the corruption of the Ministry, which was certainly something they could relate to.

* * *

In a corner of the first floor sitting room, Emma and Lindsey Granger sat together on a couch, his arm around her as they talked quietly. They'd been anxious ever since they'd learned about what might happen to their daughter should the Ministry rule against them, and their fear had only been exacerbated by the fact that they couldn't go along to show support, didn't understand the relevant laws, and wouldn't be able to help if there were any problems.

The legal proceeding against their daughter had exemplified everything they were coming to dislike about magical society... and now that she had won, they were actually going to send her back, right into the thick of things.

"Am I an awful mother," Emma asked softly, "if part of me is sad that she won — sad that we won't be taking her with us now?" She watched as Hermione came into the room. As always, Jasmine was right beside her, so close that Emma would have been hard-pressed to slip a sheet of paper between them.

Lindsey shook his head. "No, of course not. And I think Hermione would agree with me, because I'll bet that part of her would like to go with us as well."

"Just not the larger part," Emma said as she continued to watch the... couple. _Yes, that's what they are_ , she realized, _a_ _ **couple**_ _. I'd wonder why no one else notices, but neither did I a month ago, and looking back, all the signs were there._

"No, not any longer," Lindsey agreed with a sigh.

* * *

In another corner, Sirius leaned casually against a wall and subtly threw up a privacy charm so that he could talk to Remus. "So, I've been meaning to ask," he began, flicking his gaze in the direction of the girls, "how have they been treating you?"

Remus grimaced. "They basically ignore me, though some of the looks I've gotten have been a bit hostile. They haven't said much at all. Miss Granger's parents are the same." After taking a sip of firewhiskey, he added, "In fact, Miss Delacour hasn't said anything to me either, not even about my offer to help her set up Defense classes. It could be that they are all ignoring me because they've been focused on preparing for the trial, but..."

"But you doubt it?" Sirius asked. Remus nodded glumly. "So what are you going to do about it?"

Remus sighed. "I'm not sure. I should apologize, ideally, but when? How? And will they even accept it?"

"The 'when' is easy," Sirius said with a shrug. "As soon as possible. Though not tonight, I'd say — let them relax. But maybe tomorrow morning? I already told them that you regret your decision, but they need to hear it from you. As to how, just be sincere. Maybe ask if there's anything you can do to make it up to them. Keep in mind, apologizing to her will probably be more like apologizing to Lily than to James."

Remus blanched slightly, remembering some of the times the Marauders had had to apologize to Lily Evans. He still had one of the scars. "That's supposed to help?"

"Nope," Sirius said with a smirk as he took another sip of his drink. "And as scary as that is, it's twice as bad when the two of them are together." Sirius' demeanor turned more sober when he said, "And if they don't accept your apology... unfortunately, I can't help you there. You can't force them to accept it, you can only try to be a better person."

Remus nodded, then scowled deeply. "Hey, when did you get to be so... wise? You aren't Sirius Black! Who are you? How'd you get in here?" Grabbing his wand, he broke the privacy charm as he shouted, "Polyjuiced imposter! Polyjuiced imposter!" while casting a series of pranking spells on his friend. In short order a large pink and green dog sporting moose antlers and a beaver's tale was chasing Remus through the house, much to everyone's amusement, including Jasmine and Hermione.

* * *

There was far less good cheer in Malfoy Manor when Voldemort received news about what had happened in the Ministry of Magic. Even though he hadn't known in advance about the trial, in his mind if Lucius had done a better job, he'd have still had a position of influence with the Minister and could have ensured that the trial produced a conviction. Nott was trying to fill Lucius' shoes in that regard, but it wouldn't happen overnight.

Naturally, this meant that it was Lucius' fault that the Potter brat got off instead of having her wand snapped and her magic bound, which would have made it far easier to kill her. Not only did Lucius pay for that, but so too did Narcissa and Draco. Of course, Voldemort didn't want to waste the punishments, so he had some of his youngest followers deliver the torture curses.

The Malfoy family was fast becoming not only a constant object lesson to all of Voldemort's other Death Eaters about the price of stupidity and failure, but also a convenient teaching tool for those who needed live targets for practicing the Unforgivables. So Voldemort sat and listened, smiling, to the Malfoy screams while occasionally giving pointers to the young Hogwarts students about how to improve their technique.

* * *

Deep under the Gringotts bank in London, War Chief Sharpaxe looked at the report about events in the Ministry that day. He shook his head in exasperation at the stupidity of so many witches and wizards.

 _This is one of the reasons why we've been unsuccessful in developing positive relations with them, especially on this island_ , he thought angrily. _Rude... corrupt... no common sense... Had those two witches been convicted, it might have activated the Armageddon Clause in our new treaty with the veela, leading to all-out warfare with wizarding Britain after the Horde stormed the Ministry to rescue them._

He set aside the brief and pulled out some fresh parchment so he could draft his own report to his queen. _Maybe the Goddess is watching out for them and us after all_ , he thought as he began to write.


	12. Bad to the Bone

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "You're My Density" by robst. Time-travel story in which Harry loses his temper at his trial for underaged magic, leading to his magic being bound, his memory being wiped, and to Voldemort taking over. Eventually Dumbledore comes up with a way to send Harry and Hermione back in time to change things; unfortunately, Harry's memories don't return in the process. In progress. H/Hr.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 12 - Bad to the Bone**

 **Saturday, August 14, 1995. Morning.**

When Jasmine and Hermione accompanied Fleur to the library, they brought a small stack of congratulatory letters from their friends. It seemed that by yesterday evening, everyone had heard about what had happened in the Ministry that morning. There was nothing about the trial in the _Daily Prophet_ , of course, but if Fudge thought that he was going to successfully cover up his failure, he was very much mistaken.

Not only was news of the trial being spread by their friends privately, but Luna Lovegood's letter included an offer to write an article for _The Quibbler_ if the two Gryffindors wanted to provide some background information — which they eagerly intended to do that very day.

Regularly inviting her to eat with them towards the end of the previous term had resulted in a slowly-developing friendship with the blonde Ravenclaw. "Having friends in the media is useful, isn't it?" Jasmine now asked with a smirk.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she always did when the Lovegoods' bizarre publication was mentioned. They both thought Luna was incredibly sweet, but her conspiracy theories and stories about strange animals drove Hermione spare. Jasmine didn't know what to make of the younger witch's beliefs, so instead she just focused on the entertainment value of watching Hermione's reactions.

Once all three were seated, they began to discuss their training and lesson plans for the rest of the summer. They only had two weeks before they'd be back in the castle and caught up in the demands of fifth year. "How far have you gotten in your defense studies?" Fleur asked.

"Last month I did what I could alone," Hermione answered. "But we need to start practicing with each other again."

"We aren't under pressure from the hearing anymore, so that will help," Jasmine added.

"Bien," Fleur said. "You cannot practice spellcasting here — even if you weren't underage, there isn't anywhere good for zat. Still, you can work on theory, reviewing fourth year and reading ahead for fifth."

Once they had worked out some provisional study plans, Fleur said that they would be mostly on their own because she would need all of the remaining two weeks of the summer holidays to prepare for seven different years of defense lessons.

"Can we help at all?" Hermione asked. Just as Fleur was about to decline, they heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. A glance at the doorway revealed Remus Lupin standing there, looking decidedly awkward.

"Um, perhaps I could be of help with that?" he said. Grimacing slightly at the cold reception he received, he continued. "Though I originally came up here primarily to apologize to you, Miss Granger, for what I did." She cocked an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing. "At the very least, I should have found some other way to do what I was asked, but as I've looked back on things, I've come to conclude that those were instructions that I probably shouldn't have been following in the first place."

Her expression softened, and while the change was slight, it was enough to encourage him to continue. "At the time I sincerely believed that keeping Jasmine isolated was necessary for security — and the Headmaster repeatedly emphasized the importance of keeping her safe, especially in the wake of her kidnapping. I hope you'll understand that it was my concern for her safety, combined with many years of feeling that I owe him a great debt, that caused me to act... well, to act in a way that I am now quite ashamed of. I should not have stunned you, Miss Granger."

"I appreciate your desire to keep me safe," Jasmine said stiffly, "but that house was never especially 'safe' for me, and physical safety isn't the only important thing in the world. It's not enough to simply live, you have to have something to live _for_ — and being incarcerated in that house sapped away from me any sense that there was anything worth living for. Once I started attending Hogwarts, it was only the thought of getting back to friends like Hermione that kept me going."

Remus looked down at his feet and said softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"You **could** have known, though," Hermione said, her voice less conciliatory than Jasmine's. "Why didn't you ever visit her? Or even write to her?"

"That's... that's a long story," Remus answered. "I wasn't even in the country when James and Lily were killed. Albus had sent me on a mission to negotiate with werewolves on the continent. When I returned and heard the news, I rejoiced at our victory, then sank into a deep depression when I learned how great the cost had been. I lost my three closest friends and thought one a traitor — and these were just about the only people who had ever treated me like a human being. Albus assured me that Jasmine was safe, and then I proceeded to get drunk for a couple of years."

Remus walked into the room and sat heavily at the second table. "Once I climbed back out of the bottle, I tried to contact you but couldn't. I couldn't find you, and owls I sent never came back with an answer. I asked Albus, and he told me that you were being kept in a safe, secure place where you couldn't be contacted. I... well, I believed him."

"And once I started Hogwarts?" Jasmine asked.

Remus sighed. "By that point I had convinced myself that you wouldn't be interested in knowing a broken-down old werewolf. I had no idea how you'd been raised or by whom, and I couldn't be sure that you wouldn't be as prejudiced as just about everyone else in our world. And even if you weren't... well, you have to remember that it's never far from my mind that I'm a dark creature. It took me a long time being friends with James and Sirius to develop much self-esteem, and I lost most of that in the wake of that Halloween. I... well, I never felt especially worthy to try approaching you."

"You should have tried," Jasmine insisted, tears collecting at the corners of her eyes. "I didn't know anything about my parents before I came to Hogwarts. I still don't know much, in fact. I'd have given anything to be able to communicate with someone who would have told me about them. Anything." Jasmine sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, prompting Hermione to hug her from one side and Fleur from the other.

"I didn't know that then," Remus said softly, "but I know it now. I'd like to make it up to you, if I can. If you'll let me."

Jasmine just sniffed again and stared at her shoes for a few long moments before she finally nodded. "You can start by helping Fleur," Jasmine said, smiling as she looked over at the veela. "I think she could use your help more than me right now."

"Of course," Remus said. "That's one reason why I came up here. Also, Sirius thought that if I was going to be spending time with Miss Delacour and her lessons, maybe you two could join him in his bedroom? Apparently he has something important to show you — not even I know what it is. Although... it's really only because you're his goddaughter that I'm willing to trust you with him after hearing him say, 'come to my bedroom, I want to show you something….'"

Jasmine and Hermione snickered and looked to Fleur, who just said, "Go on," and made shooing motions at them.

"So, Miss Delacour," they heard as they walked out of the library, "let me show you the lesson plans I used…."

* * *

Sirius led the two witches to a stretch of bare wall in the hall on the top floor and said, "I'd like to introduce you to my mother and some of the other portraits."

"But where, Sirius?" Hermione asked. "There's nothing here."

"I assume it's this room," Jasmine said, gesturing at the wall in front of them.

"What? There's nothing there!" Hermione insisted.

Sirius smirked. "That's because I created a specially warded room where all of the portraits could interact. Only those with Black heritage can see the door, and since Jasmine's grandmother was a Black, it's visible to her." His smirk turned to a slight frown when he added, "Unfortunately, that means Tonks can see it as well, so I've had to lock it so that only permitted people can enter, just in case she comes up here.

"Oooh!" Hermione said, suddenly interested in the magic behind such an effect.

"Fortunately, I gave myself the ability to bring in guests," Sirius said as he took Hermione by the arm and opened the door. "You're the only other person keyed into the room, Jasmine," he said over his shoulder to his goddaughter, "so you can bring in guests too. But I recommend no one but Hermione."

Jasmine agreed, but Hermione had stopped paying attention because she was looking around a room filled with faces peering out from magical portraits. Apparently, every Black portrait had come for the occasion.

"Jasmine, Hermione," Sirius said as he walked to one larger portrait located in the center of the far wall, "Allow me to introduce my late mother, Walburga Black. Mother, this is Jasmine Dorea Potter and Hermione Jean Granger."

Both Jasmine and Hermione froze momentarily before they remembered their lessons with Neville and curtseyed, giving the formal greetings that were expected for the lady of a house.

Both Sirius and his mother looked impressed. "That was done quite well," Walburga observed. "I'm surprised that either of you are familiar with the niceties of etiquette, especially you, Miss Granger."

"Before the Yule Ball last year," Jasmine explained, "we were tutored by Neville Longbottom in both dancing and social customs."

"Ah!" Walburga said. "That was a good idea. Longbottom... Longbottom... My cousin Callidora married a Longbottom. Good family. I'm glad to see that they are doing right by teaching and explaining our traditions to those not blessed to have been raised in our society."

Apparently not wanting to see this comment lead to any arguments, Sirius quickly began explaining how the room was used to share information that might be useful in protecting the House or in opposing the family's enemies.

"Share information?" Hermione asked, suddenly looking a little worried. "If portraits are forbidden from giving information to people, can they still share that information with other portraits? Since, after all, portraits aren't people?"

Sirius furrowed his brow for a moment before conceding that they could, immediately causing both witches to start to panic.

Walburga cut in just then. "While it is true that they can, in theory, communicate things, that doesn't mean they are always able to do so." The expression on her face gave Jasmine and Hermione the distinct impression that the portrait was aware of far more than she was saying.

"Just so you know," she continued, "I had a talk with Aquila, one of the portraits currently in the library, and he's made sure that everyone gives you privacy. In the future, any discussions you have in the library will not be listened in on."

Hermione put her hand on Jasmine's shoulder while Sirius frowned. "Am I missing something here?" he asked the room. "Is there something going on that someone should tell me?"

Walburga cocked an eyebrow when Sirius directed his annoyed gaze at her. Finally she said, "I can neither confirm nor deny that there is anything going on. If there were, however, it would be up to Jasmine and Hermione to tell you."

Sirius then turned to the two younger witches, fixing them with an expectant look. "There are things we know which you don't," Hermione reluctantly said, "but we're not prepared to tell everyone everything about us."

When she saw that Sirius looked hurt, Jasmine added, "Some things are a bit too personal to easily talk about, Sirius."

"But my evil mother's portrait can know?" Sirius asked petulantly, earning him a scowl from his mother and exasperated huffs from both witches.

"No, Sirius," Hermione responded. "I think I can safely say that your mother doesn't truly know anything. It's not something that portraits can truly learn." Walburga frowned in confusion, but Sirius and the girls were too focused on each other to notice.

"Oh, very well!" Sirius finally said before ushering them over to a table in the center of the room. "Because of the portraits here, I actually know more about what's going on with the Death Eaters than the Order does. Unfortunately, there's so little going on that I don't know much more — and what extra I do know isn't worth passing on."

Once they were seated, he continued, "But that's not why I brought you here. You know that the room exists and that information flows through here, and that's enough. The main reason why I brought you here is to discuss the possibility of formally adopting you, Jasmine."

Both Jasmine and Hermione stared wide-eyed at Sirius, not having expected anything like this.

"Why, Sirius?" Jasmine asked.

"There are a number of reasons," Sirius answered, "but the most important reason is that I'd like to do a better job of taking care of you, kiddo. I've made some bad decisions when it comes to how I comport myself as your godfather. I'd like to start over and start doing a better job — but as an adoptive father rather than as a sometime father figure. If you'll have me, that is."

Jasmine stared hard at the table and had to take a few deep breaths to calm herself. For so many years, the idea of being adopted had been a recurring dream of hers. She had so often wished that someone — anyone — would take her away and make her a part of their family. That, however, had been before she had learned that her family had a bit of a heritage — and that she had more than a bit of a destiny.

Looking back up, she said, "Being taken in by someone who would love me has been a dream of mine for years. But..." she paused, and it seemed as though every portrait in the room was holding its breath. "But what about being a Potter? I... I don't think I'd want to give up my last name. I didn't know my parents, but they did give their lives to protect me."

Sirius smiled sadly. "Your father was practically my brother, and I'd never suggest you do anything that would disrespect him or your mother. You wouldn't have to abandon the Potter name, but it would require adopting the Black name as well. So you'd have to use some sort of hyphenated variation, like Potter-Black."

Jasmine looked thoughtful at this. "I... I guess I could see doing that. It's a big step, though."

"It will help you both," Walburga interjected. "If Sirius never has children, the Black family will be continued through you rather than through Draco Malfoy. Right now you **could** inherit everything as his goddaughter and Dorea's granddaughter, but the Malfoys could contest it and tie things up in the courts for a while. Being adopted by Sirius would prevent that. At the same time, you get ready access to money and political status — and remember, political status is a form of protection."

Sirius looked annoyed at her interference, but Jasmine asked, "Why is it so important to you? And why are you trying to be so helpful?"

"As I'm sure Sirius informed you," Walburga answered, "you're the granddaughter of my favorite aunt. I feel some obligation to help you as a distant member of our House."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and said, "That may be true, but there's more, isn't there?"

Jasmine nodded in agreement. "No offense, but I have trouble believing that you'd go to all of this effort," she gestured around the room, "just because of a name."

Walburga smiled at the two witches and said, "Very good. I'm glad to see that you're paying attention and not taking what others say at face value. Having an heir to the House — someone reliable and trustworthy — is important. I and others would like to see the House of Black become great again. I think you have the potential to achieve that. Granted, you'll need more education and plenty of help, but I think you have far more potential than anyone else related to the House in quite a long time."

After giving them a moment to consider that she added, "The Potter family lost a lot of its power and influence. The Blacks, however, can still command political respect, and we still have our seat on the Wizengamot."

Jasmine frowned. "That's not exactly a selling point with me right now. Most of what I've seen with the Ministry and the Wizengamot, I don't like. I mean, there are a few good people, but for the most part they aren't the sort I'd want to associate with. Why would I want to bother sitting on the Wizengamot, anyway?"

"Oh?" Walburga said. "And I take it that you think magical society today is perfect? No need for improvement?"

"Absolutely not!" Jasmine exclaimed. "A lot of it is horrid!"

"And what do you intend to do about that?" Walburga asked pointedly.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Do you intend to simply run away to avoid British magical society, since you think it's so flawed?" the portrait clarified. "Do you intend to stay and just live with it? Or are you going to make changes?"

"Changes?" Jasmine repeated. "I'm only fifteen! Why should I be asked to…. Oh, Merlin, not this again!" Jasmine banged her head on the table.

"Again?" When Hermione just shook her head, the portrait arched an eyebrow but continued. "Age is irrelevant. If you see things that you think desperately need to be changed, you should begin preparing yourself now because the sooner you get started, the sooner you'll succeed."

"Is it **really** necessary for me to get involved with the government, though?" Jasmine asked, sounding almost dejected.

In answer, Walburga posed a question of her own. "How are major social, cultural, and political changes made?"

Everyone was silent for a moment, then Hermione started to raise her hand. Abruptly remembering that she wasn't actually in a classroom, she sheepishly lowered it again and said, "Either from the inside or from the outside. Changes made from the inside are often less violent; changes made from the outside tend to be more so. The latter usually take the form of revolutions as political outsiders force changes on a system that can't or won't change itself. Not all revolutions are violent, but they often are."

Walburga inclined her head. "If the changes are significant enough, violence is almost inevitable at some point, regardless of where the changes start. Entrenched interest groups rarely give up their power and privileges without a fight, often using the law itself to impose their will — as you yourself have recently experienced — but also going outside the law if they think it will benefit them. So if you want to make major changes, you'll need to be prepared for violence — and possibly to use violence, in case things go badly. Still, how much violence there is will depend a great deal on how successful you are at making changes non-violently within the system." She then looked directly at Jasmine. "Does that answer your question about why it's necessary to get involved in the government?"

Jasmine gulped and nodded. "But... why me?"

Walburga sighed. "It's history. It's life. You either accept what others impose upon you, or you fight to be free to do what you will. What sort of witch do you intend to be? Are you going to be the kind who meekly accepts the restrictions that others tell you are good for you? Are you going to allow others to impose their will on you, making you their pawn? Or are you going to be the sort of witch who decides for herself what's good for her, and what kind of life she'll lead?"

She looked back and forth between both girls before continuing, "Will you allow a bad system to lumber on, heedless of the harm it's causing? Or do you trust yourself enough to exercise your will and intent on the world around you, making changes that reflect what you know to be right and good?"

Somehow, she'd known exactly what to say to ignite a positive response. Even as Sirius stared at his mother's portrait, clearly wondering where such words were coming from, Jasmine and Hermione were sitting up a little straighter, looking at each other with grim determination. "Maybe it's just one more thing to do," Jasmine said, "or maybe it will all be the same project. Either way, though, I think we'll stand a better chance of changing things if we have more tools to use."

Now Sirius was eyeing the two young witches, wondering what they could possibly be referring to. "I agree," Hermione said. "We should at least try to work within the system, if we have an opportunity to do so from a position of strength. If it doesn't prove useful, then hopefully we won't have lost much."

"And if working within the government doesn't help," Jasmine concluded, "we'll have other tools to use, and we won't have to feel guilty about it."

* * *

Later, after Sirius and the girls had left, Phineas Nigellus got Walburga's attention and said, "I agree that those two are quite interesting, but aside from the familial connection I still don't understand why you are so vociferous in your support, or why you see so much potential in them."

Walburga hid a smirk, recognizing that Phineas had yet to realize what she and a few of the other portraits had figured out. "Isn't it obvious?" she answered. "From everything I've heard and observed, it seems to me that both she and her friend would like to see fundamental changes made to magical government and society. I think she wanted such changes even before she got caught up in that trial, but now that she's personally experienced how corrupt the Ministry is, it's become even more important.

"With a bit of help from us, she'll be able to use politics and the law, but her past behavior shows that she's not afraid to step outside the rules when she thinks it's necessary — even to the point of violence — because she regards her own ideals as higher and more important than the literal legal code. So she'll go to great lengths to make the changes she deems necessary — including taking actions that others would condemn as wrong, immoral, illegal, or dark. She's even got her own inner circle of allies and supporters, both at school and abroad."

Phineas' eyes widened in surprise as he took in what she was saying. "You're not suggesting..."

"She's a Dark Lady," Walburga stated emphatically. "Or at least, she's on her way to becoming one, especially with the right guidance."

"She's hardly dark!" Phineas scoffed. "She may not worship the literal text of the law like some do, but that's a long way from being even remotely dark."

"Granted, she's not exactly a... traditionalist Dark Lady," Walburga conceded, "but otherwise she fits the common criteria well enough. As you and I both know, 'dark' is usually accepted by the masses as whatever the current Ministry defines as dark. Since it's this same Ministry that generally labels someone as a 'dark lord' or 'dark lady,' that's good enough. You and I might disagree with how the Ministry defines what is dark, but I think I can set aside that particular difference of opinion in this case. What's important is that she won't be one of the sheep, simply accepting what she's told."

She let Phineas think about that for a moment before going on, "If the current Ministry thought that they needed to silence her, I'm quite sure that they would label Jasmine Dorea as dark given the spells she's learned, even if they're only grey. They're violent and more than a bit extreme for someone her age — that would be plenty for the right propaganda writer. What's more, if she's willing to use such spells now, what will she be using in a few years? If she were to then also declare her opposition to our current political and social system, along with her intention to reshape it according to her own vision, do you honestly think they wouldn't denounce her as the next Dark Lady?"

Phineas' brow furrowed in thought before he finally conceded the point. "She may not be dark by any measure **I** acknowledged while I was alive, but I guess it's a testimony to just how bad things are now that someone as relatively light as her would probably get such a label. I will admit, though, that she does arguably have an inner circle already, one that nearly started a revolt in Hogwarts in order to fight for what they believed to be right." Phineas chuckled briefly at the memory. "You should have seen Dumbledore afterwards — he was fit to be tied, but he couldn't do a thing about it!"

Walburga smiled back, glad that he was finally starting to see the light. Or the dark. But then he had to go and ruin it by adding, "I'm just not comfortable with the witches-only aspect of it all. I mean... witches? Really?"

Walburga raised an eyebrow and stepped forward in her frame, as if to reach out to his. "And what's wrong with witches, Phineas?" she asked dangerously.

"Oh, um, nothing — nothing at all, really," Phineas stammered, clearly afraid that perhaps she could indeed reach across and grab him.

Walburga nodded. "There had better not be. She will probably push for reforms that differ greatly from what you and I might prefer, but our time is past. We have an obligation to support the current, living members of the Black family in their ambitions while guiding them in a way that's consistent with the historical values of our noble House. Given Jasmine Dorea's background, we are very limited in what we can do when it comes to the latter part, but we can try — and that means getting involved.

"And the fact that she'd be treated as a Dark Lady by the current Ministry will make that easier for many of us," Phineas noted, trying to placate Walburga, "even if the label's justification seems a bit weak from our perspective."

"We are Slytherin," Walburga stated. "Our ambition doesn't need to be shackled to any particular ideology, nor must our cunning be used exclusively on behalf of what our personal preferences were while we were alive. She and her... friend are the future, and we'll be helping the House of Black by helping them."

After a pause, Walburga said slowly, "Besides, the label may not be entirely weak from our perspective."

"Oh?" Phineas asked with a frown.

Walburga hesitated, unsure about whether she should share any of this. Finally, she said, "I must insist that you keep what I am about to tell you to yourself, unless I give you permission to communicate it to others. Do you understand?" The magic of the Black family washed over Phineas' portrait, and he nodded stiffly. "You know how Dumbledore's expressed some concerns about the amount of power Jasmine Dorea seems to have?"

"Yes, and I'm keeping a watch for anything else along those lines, just as you've asked me to," Phineas said. "Aside from what happened in the library the other day, though, I've yet to see any substance behind his concerns. I've been inclined to treat them as mostly just rumors, exaggeration, or misunderstandings."

Walburga shook her head. "No, it's much more than that. I've been gathering information on them for months now. They can both cast the siege engine spell multiple times with minimal rest — and that's not the only high-level spell they are capable of, either. Jasmine Dorea fought off dozens of merpeople under the Black Lake while maintaining a bubblehead charm on someone else. The muggleborn has been seen at least once with glowing eyes. What's more, except for a couple of earlier reports of unusual power exhibited by Jasmine Dorea, all of those incidents occurred late during their fourth year."

Phineas grew more and more intrigued during Walburga's explanation. "That is all very interesting indeed. And it's all recent? Sudden, in fact?" When Walburga nodded, he continued, "There aren't many rituals that can boost one's magical power, and even fewer that work quickly."

"And **none** of them could be confused with light magic," Walburga pointed out. "Even if we ignore the stupidity of the Ministry's condemnation of all rituals regardless of their content, those involved with increasing magical power in any way are unambiguously dark."

"And difficult, too," Phineas added. "Those that work fastest are also the most dangerous. There's a good reason why so few even in our family ever attempted any of the latter. If those two young witches not only tried, but succeeded... and one of them a muggleborn, too…."

Walburga nodded. "One is a muggleborn — though I suspect she might have noble blood in her ancestry — and the other was muggle-raised but definitely has a noble background. Both entered our world completely ignorant of what they were getting into, yet they have managed some impressive feats already. What's more, neither seems to be shackled to the limited perspective and assumptions that the Ministry teaches about what is 'light' and 'dark' in magic. I think we can expect great things from both of them, and I think Jasmine Dorea will do the house of Black proud, whatever her choices ultimately are."

* * *

 **Saturday, August 14, 1995. Late Morning.**

Since Arthur didn't have to go to work, he hung around the kitchen after breakfast to try to talk to the Grangers, hoping to get some insights into the muggle world. "So what is it, exactly, that a demotist does, again?" he asked as he sat down.

" **Dentist**. We basically take care of teeth," Emma tried to explain. She knew he was a sweet and kind man, but she simply could not fathom how he of all people could be put in charge of handling the misuse of muggle artifacts when he had so little understanding of anything muggle. "We clean teeth, fix damaged teeth, remove the ones too damaged to repair — that sort of thing."

"So you have your hands in other people's mouths all day?" Arthur asked, his expression a mixture of fascination and horror. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Not really," Lindsey said. "We've both been bitten a couple of times, but usually by small kids, and it's never been too serious."

"Stress is a much bigger problem than bites," Emma put in.

"Yeah," Lindsey agreed. "Dentists are statistically prone to suicide."

"Really?" Arthur said. "I'm so sorry to hear that. We use calming draughts and cheering charms to deal with stress. What do you do?"

"We've tried several different things," Lindsey replied. "Meditation, hiking, incense... but I think that the best stress reliever has been—"

"Sensual massage," Emma interjected with a smile.

Lindsey turned to his wife and smiled back. "Yes, definitely massage."

"Massage?" Arthur asked, confused.

"Yes, uh, it's, uh..." Emma stammered, then looked to her husband for help.

"It's, well, rubbing stiff muscles until they completely relax," Lindsey explained. "Usually best done with a partner."

Emma coughed hard a few times before saying, "Yes, that's it exactly."

"My, my, what will muggles think of next?" Arthur responded dreamily. On the other side of the kitchen, Kreacher opened a door and stepped into a small room which he used, all the while muttering about blood traitors and dirty muggles.

* * *

 **Sunday, August 22, 1995. Morning.**

Almost everyone was crying — or working hard to hide their crying — when Emma and Lindsey Granger left Grimmauld Place for France. The plan was to take a EuroStar from London to Paris via the Channel Tunnel. Once in Paris, another couple would take several hairs from the Grangers and start taking polyjuice while traveling east, eventually to disappear in Eastern Europe.

The Grangers would disguise themselves with muggle products before taking a TGV down to Nice, where they would spend a few weeks getting acclimated to the area before starting at a dental practice in a small town about halfway between Nice and the closest veela enclave. The Grangers wouldn't be able to live inside the enclave itself, but their house was just outside its boundaries, and there would also be at least a couple of veela living in the large farmhouse with them at all times. There was talk about trying to train a few veela to work in the dental practice itself, but there were also concerns about possibly exposing the muggles to the allure in such a manner.

It seemed like an elaborate plan, but it was the only one which met with Hermione's approval and kept her from accompanying them personally — that, and the fact that Fleur would be travelling with them. Fortunately, Remus' extensive help with her lesson plans had put her far enough ahead that she could afford to take time out for this trip. As worried as Hermione was about her parents, knowing that Fleur would be with them every step of the way eased her fears a great deal. As the only magical accompanying them, she was carrying all of the shrunken furniture and personal possessions which had been retrieved from the Granger house by an Order team led by Arthur.

Neither he nor Mrs. Weasley were there to see the Grangers off, which Jasmine had found strange until Sirius explained to her that the 22nd was Percy's birthday. According to Sirius, Mrs. Weasley was still taking the huge argument they'd had with him very hard, especially since they'd yet to have any contact with him since he stormed out of the Burrow.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Mum," Hermione sobbed as she and her mother competed to see which of them could squish the other first.

"I'll miss you too, sweetheart," her mother responded. "I'm sorry that we won't be there to see you off at the train station this year."

While the two Granger women were doing this, Jasmine and Lindsey were standing a little awkwardly to the side. "So, uh," Jasmine said, "you're all packed? Remembered everything?"

He nodded.

"Got a towel?"

Lindsey grinned at that. When he noticed that she seemed completely serious, he asked, "Do you know what that means?"

"Not particularly," she answered with a shrug. "It's just something Hermione likes to ask when we're getting packed and ready for the Hogwarts Express. I always thought it was a little weird, to be perfectly honest."

Lindsey snorted. "Figures. Seems there's some books I need to get for you." After a moment, he continued, "Thank you again for coming to help us, Jasmine. We all owe you a lot."

"No, you don't owe me anything — I did what anyone else would have…."

Lindsey shook his head. "I doubt that. What you did was special, and it's because you and our Hermione are so close. I'm glad for that."

Jasmine smiled a little shyly before she was pulled into a tight hug from Emma while Hermione hugged her father goodbye. "Please keep taking good care of my little girl," she said to Jasmine. "She means everything to me, and I know she's important to you, too." The green-eyed witch had no idea where this show of emotion had come from, but she hugged the elder Granger woman back and promised to watch out for Hermione as much as she could.

"Honestly, though, she probably watches out for me more," she admitted quietly.

Once the Grangers and Fleur had left, Hermione and Jasmine went straight for the library, where Jasmine tried to keep Hermione distracted, though without much success.

* * *

 **Wednesday, August 25, 1995. Night.**

"We're simply going to have to tell him," Sirius finally said to the portrait of his mother.

Said portrait was pacing furiously back and forth in her frame — behavior that was quite uncharacteristic of her. "I don't like it," she responded. "I don't like it at all. I've never thought that we can trust him, and everything I've learned in the past few months makes me distrust him even more."

Sirius snorted. "Distrust? After I got done telling you about everything Jasmine and her friends had written, you started making plans to have him killed!"

"And?" Walburga asked. "If even half of what they said was true, can you honestly tell me I was wrong?"

"Tempting as that might be," Sirius said, his voice overriding her, "the fact remains that we need him. And the whole point of this conversation is that we're facing an issue where I doubt that anyone else in wizarding Britain can help."

Suddenly Walburga's portrait gave Sirius a genuine smile — one of the few he'd ever seen on her face. "Good, I'm glad to hear that — it shows you're learning. Use your enemies for your own purposes, and when they're no longer useful, **then** you eliminate them — preferably in as painful a manner as possible. Just so long as you never trust them."

Sirius shook his head ruefully at his mother's attitude, and not for the first time. "Don't worry, I don't trust him. Except for one thing, though: I do trust that he is completely and unreservedly opposed to Voldemort. So I'm pretty sure that he will use our information properly to help finally destroy—"

For some reason, "He Who Has No Balls" popped into his mind just then, though fortunately he managed to bite it back in time — somehow he doubted his mother would approve. "...that evil bastard," he finished instead.

"Only 'pretty sure'?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Sirius shrugged. "He's a politician. If there's some sort of angle to doing it in a way that benefits his overall agenda, I'm sure he'll give it serious consideration, even if that way of doing it is not quite in the best interests of others. The end goal is important enough that I'm willing to run that risk, though."

Walburga sighed and sat heavily in the chair that had been painted into her frame. "And I can't deny that we've failed to come up with much on our own. Even if he hasn't figured out that the Dark Lord used horcruxes, Albus Dumbledore has enough knowledge and contacts that he should be able to make more progress than we have."

"More than anyone else I can think of, at any rate," Sirius added.

"Very well," Walburga said reluctantly. "You have another Order meeting tomorrow night, do you not?" When Sirius nodded, she continued, "Then before it starts, tell him that you have something vital to discuss with him and insist that he talk with you privately after the meeting. Don't take no for an answer. Take him to the sitting room, and I'll make sure that Adhara is in her small tabletop frame so we can talk later about his reaction. Demand that you be included in any efforts to find and destroy those vile things, at least insofar as your fugitive status allows for it."

She thought for a few moment, then added, "Also, argue that Jasmine Dorea needs to be told about this, since she has had to face the Dark Lord so many times. Argue, but don't insist. Allow yourself to be persuaded, at least temporarily, if he refuses... and I'm sure he will. But stand firm on the other points."

Sirius smiled. This was why he had come to appreciate plotting with his mother. For all that he had hated her when he was a child, and for all that he objected to her (increasingly rare) expressions of bigotry, there were few who could plot and scheme like she could. There had been a time when he could plan fantastic pranks, but his years in Azkaban had dulled his mind, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever get back that sharpness that he could tell was lacking.

Working with his mother, though — even if it was only a portrait of her — helped ensure that he could still get things done. And the fact that everyone else thought she was a ranting, raving lunatic meant that he was still able to enjoy pranking the entire Order on some level, even if they never found out.


	13. Midnight Confessions

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "I'm Not Going" by Pixel and Stephanie Forever. Harry is taken in and adopted at a young age by the Grangers after the Dursleys abandon him. Only he receives a Hogwarts letter, however, and he refuses to go if Hermione — a muggle — isn't permitted to go as well. H/Hr.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 13 - Midnight Confessions**

 **Thursday, August 26, 1995, Late Night.**

Sirius was more bored than he'd ever been at any other Order meeting (which was saying something), but he had an unusually important appointment after the meeting was over and was anxious to get to it. Sirius had never found any of the Order meetings to be especially interesting, but ever since Jasmine, Hermione, and the Grangers had listed off some of the things that the Order **could** be doing, he had realized just how little the group was accomplishing. Unfortunately, only a few of them agreed that more should be done, and convincing the others of the value of some of the suggestions was slow going.

Sirius stopped paying attention when Snape began speaking — it was something about Death Eaters studying building plans of some sort. Snape had no idea what building it was, so as usual it was absolutely useless information that only appeared to be slightly helpful. Sirius wondered if anyone else realized just how pointless Snape's participation was, but quickly dismissed the question when he remembered that most would accept him simply because Dumbledore had expressed his trust in the man.

Sirius paid a bit more attention when Snape revealed that both Lucius and Draco Malfoy were still alive, but not in good health and certainly not in Voldemort's good graces anymore. According to the dungeon bat, all of the Malfoys were being subjected to regular degradation and torture, both as an object lesson to the other Death Eaters and as subjects of practice for younger recruits. This information wasn't terribly useful, either, but at least it was entertaining.

It was nearly midnight when the meeting finally ended, and Sirius moved quickly to intercept Dumbledore before he could leave. He'd mentioned before the start of the meeting that he had something important to talk about, but he didn't want to take a chance that the old man might have forgotten.

"Can't this wait until another evening?" the headmaster asked, obviously tired.

"I don't think so," Sirius responded, "And once we get started, you won't either." Dumbledore sighed and gestured to Sirius to lead on. Once in the sitting room, Dumbledore didn't hide his surprise when Sirius cast several privacy and silencing spells on the door.

He also didn't hide his impatience for the younger man to begin. Sirius had debated with himself for hours about how this conversation should go. In the end, he decided the best and easiest solution was bluntness: get right to the point and move on from there. "I know how Voldemort cheated death back in 1981," he said. When Dumbledore cocked a single eyebrow, Sirius continued, "He made horcruxes. That's plural, by the way — more than one."

Dumbledore shocked Sirius by jumping up out of his seat and drawing his wand. Instead of attacking, though, he immediately began casting his own privacy spells on the door. Not looking the least bit kindly or grandfatherly anymore, the old headmaster looked down on Sirius with a grim and even threatening mien. "How do you know this, Sirius?"

"For some reason that I haven't been able to determine yet," Sirius answered, more than a little cowed, "one of his horcruxes blew up most of this sitting room not long after I arrived here. It had been sitting here for years — my brother, Regulus, stole it from Voldemort and tasked the family house elf, Kreacher, with destroying it, but he couldn't."

"Are you certain of this?" Dumbledore asked as he slowly sat back down.

"As certain as I can be," Sirius answered. He pulled out a silk bag and dumped out onto the table a small pile of golden fragments, all twisted and burned. "This is what's left over from the horcrux that was in this house. I think Kreacher is telling the truth, and the pieces here tested positive — barely — for having been connected to a piece of a soul."

Dumbledore cast several of his own detection charms on the shards of metal, including the one Sirius had used once he'd had it explained to him. After a tense minute, he slumped a little in his chair and said, "Yes, it seems that you were correct."

"I haven't been able to find anything beyond the one that was here," Sirius said, "but after hearing Jasmine's stories about her second year, I'm certain he made more than one."

Dumbledore nodded. "I agree, I think that more than one was created."

"I'd like to be part of any effort to find and destroy those vile things," Sirius declared. "He's been after my goddaughter since she was a toddler, and I want to do this to help protect her. Besides, this was obviously something that my brother believed in doing, and I'd like to continue pursuing it in his honor."

The old headmaster didn't say anything for a long moment, but finally he replied, "That may be possible. As a fugitive you are limited in what you can do, obviously, but if something comes up, I would welcome your assistance."

"I take it you knew about these things already?" Sirius asked. "You recognized what that diary was?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I've known for quite some time that he must have done something to cheat death, though it wasn't until a couple of years ago that I came across the evidence that horcruxes were probably the means he used. This confirms it, at least as far as is possible to confirm something like that without having an intact one to test."

"We need to tell Jasmine," Sirius declared. "She's the one he keeps targeting and she needs to know why he refuses to die, no matter how many times she kills the berk."

Dumbledore looked almost panicked for a moment. "I don't think that would be a good idea. I don't believe that knowledge of the existence of such things should be spread any further than necessary. The fewer who know about Voldemort's horcruxes, the better. If he even suspects that anyone knows about them, he will make it harder for us to find and destroy them."

Sirius acquiesced reluctantly. "That makes sense, but she may need to know about them eventually. She's the one who's always fighting Voldemort, and this is critical information."

Dumbledore nodded slowly again. "Yes, she may need to be told at some point, but not before it's necessary. This should be kept secret for as long as possible."

* * *

 _So, it's definitely true that Voldemort made multiple horcruxes_ , Dumbledore thought as he lay awake in bed. _It wasn't just the diary and the fragment behind Miss Potter's scar. But how many? And where are they? I will need to start hunting them down, and soon. I'll also need to start preparing Miss Potter, but I can't tell her about the horcruxes — not yet. She'll need to have at least basic Occlumency skills before I do that. And the prophecy? No, that wouldn't be a good idea either... but special lessons about Voldemort's life and personality are the most obvious first step. But how do I justify that without telling her about the prophecy first?_

Dumbledore tossed and turned long into the night, but no real answers came to him. He hated dealing with situations like this without a plan, but it looked like he wouldn't have a choice this time.

* * *

 **Friday, August 27, 1995, Late Morning.**

"Professor Dumbledore!" Molly Weasley exclaimed when he entered the kitchen. "I wasn't expecting you here today! Oh, I do hope everything is alright... here, take this seat and I'll get you a cup of tea. Lunch isn't quite ready yet, but I'm sure I can whip up some—"

"Thank you, Molly," he interrupted, "but just the tea is fine. Aside from Sturgis having been arrested at the Ministry, everything is fine."

"So what brings you here today?" she asked as she set a cup down in front of him and poured his tea.

Dumbledore reached into his robe and pulled out a stack of envelopes. "I thought I'd bring by everyone's Hogwarts letters a bit early," he said with a smile. As she flipped through the envelopes, Mrs. Weasley started nattering on about what they'd need to buy and when they'd make the mass shopping trip to Diagon Alley. "I don't think you should take any of the children to Diagon Alley," he advised her. "It's much too dangerous right now, especially for Miss Potter and Miss Granger."

"Oh, dear," she said, "they won't like that at all, but I suppose that it's for the best."

"Where are they, by the way?" Dumbledore asked as he stirred sugar into his tea.

"The girls? They should be up in the library with Fleur," she answered. "They frequently spend all day studying, often with Fleur, though not always. She's spending a lot of time with Remus, too, preparing for the coming term."

Dumbledore nodded and said, "Very admirable."

"I must admit," she went on, "I wasn't too keen on the idea of a French witch teaching my children — and one so young, too, not to mention a veela! But she seems like a hard worker who knows the subject well. And it's amazing how well she gets on with Jasmine and Hermione. You'd think they'd all known each other all their lives."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, filing that bit of information away. "That's interesting. Very interesting indeed."

"I'll call them all down for you," Mrs. Weasley said, but Dumbledore put out a hand to stop her.

"No need," he said. "I'll take their letters up. It will give me a chance to have a private word with Miss Delacour." Dumbledore stood and headed for the steps. Only part way up the first flight, though, he heard a door open and then the hushed, whispered voices of three witches approaching. With a quick charm to enhance his hearing, the words were suddenly clear.

"...where in ze Ministry zey keep zeir records of prophecies made in Britain, but zey should have an extensive collection. Every Ministry does." Clearly that was Miss Delacour.

"Should we try to go? I'd like to see if it's there. Do you suppose I'd be able to remove it? Then no one else would ever be able to hear it. Though Gabrielle might find it interesting..." That sounded like Miss Potter — but how did she know about Sybill's prophecy?

It was Miss Granger's voice which replied, "I doubt we'll have time to organize a trip like that, but it's worth thinking about. If not before term starts, then maybe during the Christmas hols."

Far faster than anyone would have expected a wizard of his age to be able to move, Dumbledore was down the steps, through the hall, and back in the kitchen. A silent, wandless banishing charm sent the two envelopes under the table, where Mrs. Weasley discovered them when Dumbledore claimed that he hadn't had them when he got to the stairs. Just a few seconds later the three witches entered the kitchen, and Dumbledore was able to personally hand over the two Hogwarts letters.

Rather than stay, though, he begged off with an excuse about taking care of some matters he'd only just remembered. He had some important decisions to make.

* * *

 **Friday, August 27, 1995, Evening.**

That night, everyone in Grimmauld Place celebrated because both Ron and Hermione had received prefect badges in their Hogwarts letters. Everyone was happy for the two, and more than a few were surprised that Ron had received a badge, since his marks hadn't been the best last year. As the party wound down, the four Gryffindor friends huddled together in a corner of the sitting room to discuss the choices made by their head of house.

"It still seems odd that Neville wasn't picked," Ron insisted. "His work and confidence improved quite a lot last year."

"Yeah, but while you had problems, you also turned it around during the second term," Ginny pointed out. Jasmine was pleased to see her defend her brother, despite how much closer she was obviously getting to Neville. _Then again_ , she considered, _if Neville isn't a prefect, that means she'll have more time with him._ She eyed the younger Gryffindor speculatively for a moment. _Yep, definitely a Slytherin in lion's clothing._

"Hermione at least wasn't a surprise," Ron continued. "She was always going to get the badge, even from first year."

Hermione blushed at that. "Not necessarily," she countered. "Jasmine could have gotten in. One could argue that she should have."

Jasmine shook her head. "No, not in comparison to you. Not only are my grades lower than yours, but I get into more trouble than you do... and that's not taking into account the fight I had with Malfoy! If I ever had any chance of getting picked, it went out the window once I stood up to the Headmaster and forced him to change school policies. Whether he agreed with me in the end or not, I was still just a fourth-year witch who forced the Headmaster to bend, and there's no way his ego would take that lying down."

"That just shows how much of a leader you are," Hermione protested. "And prefects need to be student leaders."

"She's a leader who doesn't get her power from the staff," Ginny pointed out. "You and Jasmine have changed things at Hogwarts, but you wouldn't have managed to accomplish nearly as much if you were dependent on the professors for your authority. Given what you've been doing, you need to be able to work independently of them."

"Good point," Jasmine said with a thoughtful expression. "Maybe it's better if I, a least, remain independent." She looked at Hermione and added, "Sometimes we have to work within the system, and sometimes we have to work outside it."

"Do you think the ferret will be back next term?" Ron asked, changing the subject.

Ginny snorted while Hermione shook her head. "He's wanted for questioning in what happened at my house, at the very least," Hermione said. "But since the last spell cast by the wand he left behind was an Unforgivable, I don't think he'll dare show up, just like his father hasn't dared show himself in public since Jas was kidnapped."

"Buncha cowardly, slimy snakes, the lot of them," Ron said disgustedly.

"Not all Slytherins are bad," Jasmine said, annoyed that this argument was coming up yet again. "Several of them helped me a lot last term, remember, and they will be working with us in the coming term. You'll have to get over your prejudice at least a little bit if you want to be around us much."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron said before taking another swig of butterbeer. "I'll try."

The three witches all looked at each other, not exactly convinced by this ringing declaration.

* * *

At Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick were enjoying their weekly get-together. Whereas McGonagall's meetings with Jasmine and Hermione revolved around tea, her meetings with Flitwick were associated with a more adult beverage — one that she found herself drinking a bit more often in recent months. Most summers Flitwick was absent from the castle, travelling, but this year he'd stuck around. McGonagall appreciated his presence because he was such a good listener as she unloaded some of her concerns on him.

"Do you think you'll have the time to help train them again this term?" she asked him at one point when the conversation turned to their two favorite students.

"I'll make the time," he assured her. "I quite enjoyed teaching them, to be honest. I haven't had an apprentice of any sort in many years, and it was nice to have that kind of mentoring relationship again."

Minerva nodded. "I know exactly what you mean. They are both very smart and very good with magic. They pick things up quickly, and it's a joy to see how far they are able to take my lessons. This coming term, I was thinking about teaching them some higher level transfiguration spells and tactics. Perhaps you'd be willing to contribute some lessons on using charms to control transfigured animals?"

Filius' eyes brightened with the possibilities. "Oh, yes, that sounds like fun. I suspect that they'll have the power to do some interesting things… and without the worry about it corrupting them, too." He paused to take another sip of his drink. "At least they'll be here this coming term. I was outraged when I heard about the trial the Ministry put them through. I don't suppose you've heard anything more about it?"

"No, nothing new. Albus has them hidden in a location that I can't mention, but I can tell you they're safe. I hope to see them at least once before term starts, "

"Do you trust the Headmaster to keep them hidden and secure?" Filius asked.

"I'm not sure **any** means of protection would be guaranteed at this point, but there are others there with them now," Minerva said. "I have to wonder if the girls will ever trust him again, though. Miss Potter, in particular, already feels manipulated by him, and it just gets worse every time he makes a decision that affects them without getting their input."

Filius sighed. "He's always been like that, as far as I know. And the more important the issue, the more likely it is that he'll horde information, relying on no one's council but his own."

* * *

 **Friday, August 27, 1995, Late Night.**

Despite the late hour, Albus Dumbledore was pacing back and forth in his private quarters, unable to sleep. _First Sirius knows about Tom's horcruxes, now Miss Potter is aware of the prophecy about her. What else can go wrong? How many more secrets aren't actually secret?_ he lamented. _She didn't need to learn about this yet!_ _To learn that she and she alone can stop Tom is such a heavy burden — too heavy for someone as young as her. She needed time to enjoy her childhood._

He had thought that he might tell her about the prophecy at the end of this year after teaching her about Tom's background, or maybe some time next year once the war with the Death Eaters presumably started getting worse. _I can't let her learn the full prophecy until she has mastered enough occlumency to prevent the information from being stolen from her mind, though — that cannot be compromised on. I can keep Miss Potter from going to the Department of Mysteries, but only for so long... eventually she will get there and discover it for herself, whether it's safe for her to do so or not._

 _Unless... unless she thinks she knows what's most important and has assurances that she'll get the rest later? If she only learns what Voldemort already knows, so there's no danger of him learning more?_

Now he sank down on the bed, a plan finally coming together in his mind.

* * *

 **Saturday, August 28, 1995, Evening.**

The shopping trip to Diagon Alley almost didn't take place, at least for the students. Molly Weasley seemed determined to enforce Dumbledore's instructions to stay in Grimmauld Place, claiming that the alley was too dangerous. They all argued against it, with Hermione taking the lead. She pointed out that she'd been there several times over the summer, both alone and with her parents, and that a shopping trip would be plenty safe enough if they were accompanied by members of the Order. Most of the adults agreed, encouraged by their growing discontent with Dumbledore's decisions over the summer.

In the end Molly relented because she couldn't find Dumbledore to get further advice on what to do. With Tonks, Lupin, Fleur, Molly, and Arthur providing security, everyone spent a long and mostly uneventful afternoon shopping.

The most interesting part of the trip had actually been a place where they didn't buy anything: Ollivander's. Jasmine had wanted to find out what had happened in the graveyard when her wand connected to Voldemort's. As creepy as Ollivander could be, he was also a wealth of information about wands, and he recognized the effect as _Priori Incantatem_ — two brother wands vying for superiority.

Evidently, had Jasmine held on, she and Voldemort would have ended up locked in a battle of wills rather than of spells — a battle where her relative lack of education and experience wouldn't have been as much of a detriment. Whoever had the strongest will would have forced the other person's wand to submit — and no one would have been allowed to interfere, which was why the golden cage had started forming around them. According to Ollivander, it was ancient magic that was only rarely seen, and that alone convinced him that Jasmine had fought Voldemort.

Upon their return, the four Gryffindors retired to the girls' bedroom, where they spent time learning how to use the new camera that Jasmine and Hermione had purchased. It was something they'd been wanting since Christmas but hadn't been able to find in Hogsmeade.

"Just don't become another Colin Creevey," Ron said pointedly.

"Oh, no worries," Jasmine replied with a shudder.

Ron turned to Hermione. "I still can't believe you just marched into Borgin & Burkes and lied to the guy in there."

"Oh, that's right," Ginny said, "You were going to tell me about that!"

Hermione went a bit pink as Ron told the story of watching Theodore Nott, an especially nasty Slytherin from their year, go into Borgin & Burkes to talk to the owner about holding something. "Jasmine's convinced that he's up to something," Ron explained, "especially with Malfoy likely being gone this coming year. That's why we followed him in the first place."

"She was even more convinced after we heard what he said," Hermione continued, "That's why I went in there and pretended to be his girlfriend — I was trying to get more information."

"Girlfriend?" Ginny exclaimed in horror. "Eww! I can't believe you did that!"

Ron snorted. "The guy in the store couldn't believe it, either — he saw right through her."

"So I'm not a good liar!" Hermione snapped. "That's not exactly a bad thing!"

"It is when you're trying to trick others into helping you," Jasmine pointed out, not bothering to look up from her book.

Ron and Ginny both chuckled while Hermione huffed. "We'll need to keep an eye on him, I think," Ron said. "I know you keep telling me that not all Slytherins are slimy, but somehow I don't think he's one of the good ones…."

* * *

 **Sunday, August 29, 1995, Night.**

"Thank you for agreeing to see me so late, Miss Potter, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said as he cast locking and privacy spells on the door to the sitting room. He had intended to do this sooner, but once he realized that he needed to have a conversation with both witches, he'd required a bit more time to prepare than he had expected.

He noted the suspicious expressions on their faces as he sat and gestured for them to sit on the sofa across from him. "Originally I had intended to simply talk to you, Miss Potter," he began, "in order to give you some information that I've been holding back until I thought you were old enough. I was then going to let you decide whether you shared it with Miss Granger, though I expected you probably would."

"When I was old enough?" Jasmine asked indignantly.

"However," Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, "after hearing about your excursion to Diagon Alley despite my warnings not to do so, I decided that I needed to talk to both of you."

"You can't keep us constantly locked up," Hermione protested. "Besides, we were careful and nothing happened."

"Earlier this month I learned how the Death Eaters found Miss Granger's home," Dumbledore explained. "I hadn't intended to share that, but it appears that now I will have to."

"Why wouldn't you share it?" Hermione demanded. "Isn't that something I deserve to know?"

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said, "but with your parents leaving the country and you living here now, I felt that it would only cause you unnecessary distress."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Tell me, Miss Granger," Dumbledore responded, "were you also careful all the other times you visited Diagon Alley this summer?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione answered, though less belligerently now.

"Yet you didn't notice that you had been recognized and followed by servants of Voldemort. Twice." Both Hermione and Jasmine recoiled in horror at this news. "The first time you were followed, they lost track of you, and Voldemort ordered more of his people to watch the alley." Dumbledore sighed before continuing, "Unfortunately I didn't hear about that and so wasn't able to warn you. The second time they spotted you, there were three of them, and they followed you right back to your front door. Voldemort himself then ordered and helped plan the raid against your family. You were all to be taken before him alive, and while I do not know exactly what he intended, I can well guess."

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and started to shake, overwhelmed by the fact that she had nearly gotten her family captured — and death probably would have been the most merciful outcome had the plan succeeded. Jasmine put her arm around the other witch's shoulders, trying to offer comfort.

"I do not take any pleasure in telling you this, Miss Granger," Dumbledore stated. "Indeed, I did not want to tell you at all because I knew that you would simply blame yourself. You made a mistake, it is true, but far more experienced wizards and witches have made similar mistakes. And many of them didn't survive to learn from them. I'm only telling you now because you didn't heed my advice to stay away from Diagon Alley yesterday."

"Maybe if you **had** told us about this…" Jasmine objected as she squeezed her girlfriend tight.

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, Miss Potter, you may be right. Perhaps I should have. I simply did not want Miss Granger to suffer unnecessarily. I don't like to see any of my students suffer, and I try to protect them as much as I can. I had hoped you would believe my advice was given with the best of intentions, not because I simply wanted to keep you locked up." Jasmine just glared in reply.

"Do they… do they know anything else about my family?" Hermione asked thickly. "Do they know where my parents' dental practice is?"

"No," he responded. "They followed you home and no further. And I doubt they will try another attack there again, at least not any time soon. They certainly have no idea about your parents' move to France. Right now, I think they are about as safe as they could possibly be."

Hermione took a shaky breath and nodded.

"What is it you wanted to tell me, then?" Jasmine asked.

"You once asked me," he began, "why Voldemort came after you and was so interested in you. Do you remember that?"

Jasmine nodded slowly. "Yes, while I was in the hospital wing at the end of first year."

"Exactly," Dumbledore responded. "I told you then that it was not yet time for you to learn such information. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure that now is the right time, either. However, it is something you will need to learn sooner or later, and Voldemort's recent return makes me think that perhaps sooner would be best. Tonight, I'd like to give you a bit of it."

"Not all?" she asked with a frown.

"Unfortunately, no," he answered. "Some of the information is rather sensitive, and I cannot take any chances that the wrong people might learn it from you. If it helps, I can assure you that you won't be able to do anything about the rest for the immediate future. For now, though, what you need to know is that a prophecy was given before you were born — a prophecy that promised the birth of someone who could defeat Voldemort. Only two infants fit the conditions of the prophecy, and when Voldemort learned of it, he decided to kill them rather than take the chance that either would grow to become a threat. He came after you first, and you know what happened then."

"What does this prophecy say?" she asked, tension obvious in her voice.

"The prophecy begins, 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.' I won't tell you the rest — that is what you will have to wait on. Nevertheless, the opening lines are more than enough to make clear why it is so important — and why Voldemort came after you once he heard it himself."

"So that's why he came after me... and it was **me** he came after, not my parents. **I'm** why my parents died!" Jasmine said with growing horror. Numbly, she asked "How did you learn of this prophecy, sir?"

"I was the one the prophecy was originally delivered to," he said. "And to anticipate your next question, Voldemort found out because a recent recruit to his cause overheard the first part and took that information to him."

"Who?" Hermione demanded in a low voice.

"It does not matter," Dumbledore said firmly. "That person later regretted their actions and repented. What they did is now long past — it cannot be undone and will not be repeated." He sighed deeply and added, "I must confess that Voldemort learning that little bit of the prophecy, and even that a prophecy existed at all, is something that I count as one of my greatest failures. I cannot tell you how often I have berated myself for allowing that information to escape and reach his ears."

Jasmine frowned, clearly not satisfied with that answer, but she let the matter drop. Instead, she asked, "Who was the other? You said there were two who could have fit the prophecy."

"Do you not know someone else who was born as the seventh month dies?" Dumbledore responded.

"Neville!" Hermione said with a gasp.

"Why are you so sure it's me and not Neville?"

"That, I'm afraid, can only be answered by the parts of the prophecy which Voldemort does not yet know, and which I therefore cannot tell you, either. Suffice it to say, there was a time when the prophecy could have referred to _either_ of you, but a choice was made and then it could refer to _only_ you."

"Does this mean that I... that I **have** to fight him?"

Dumbledore's expression turned sad when he answered, "Though I wish it were otherwise, that seems most likely. The prophecy does say that **the** one with the power to vanquish him approaches, not simply one of many. This suggests that you are the only one who can. Prophecies are always a bit… ambiguous, to say the least, but I studied this particular prophecy for many, many long hours, and in the end that was the only interpretation that I found which makes sense."

"I hate prophecies," Hermione muttered.

"And you've known this since I was an infant? Before I was born, even?" Jasmine asked. Dumbledore nodded, not quite noticing the dangerous edge in her voice.

"Then why the hell haven't you been training me!" she shouted as she shot up off the sofa. Dumbledore's eyes widened in shock as she stepped forward and loomed over him. "You believe that I have to fight him. You believe that I alone can defeat him. So why haven't you been helping me get the tools and skills I need to stop a powerful wizard with decades of experience and buttloads of knowledge?"

"Miss Potter, please, I can assure you..." he said, but she cut him off.

"I can't **believe** you!" she bellowed. "Did you expect me to stumble randomly across the ability to stop him? Through sheer dumb **luck**?"

"Miss Potter!" he said forcefully, finally getting through to her. "Children cannot be trained in difficult, powerful magics while they are still young. Even prodigies must proceed carefully, otherwise they could harm themselves."

Jasmine rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I'm not saying that you should have been teaching me post-NEWT spells when I was five. But there are things besides spellcasting that you could have been teaching me. I could have been learning accuracy and theory. I could have been learning tactics and strategy. Hell, even just fitness and exercise would have been **something**!" Jasmine was now working herself up to even more of a rant than before, so Hermione grabbed her hand and pulled her back down on the sofa.

"None of that would have allowed you to enjoy your childhood," Dumbledore protested.

" **What** childhood?" Jasmine shouted incredulously, causing various items in the room to start shaking from the anger-fueled magic she was exuding. "I didn't have a childhood! I was starved! I was forced to do as many chores as my body could bear! I was psychologically and emotionally abused! I was even beaten occasionally!"

Dumbledore blanched as he listened to this. "Surely... no, surely you are exaggerating, Miss Potter. No one treats family like that…."

"Don't call me a liar!" she roared as she stood again. Items in the room started shaking even more, and the effect moved beyond the room, attracting the attention of others in the house. "I know what I endured because I was there for every single minute of it. I never saw you there, ever, so don't pretend you have any idea what went on in the prison you condemned me to for more than a decade!"

He had learned recently that there hadn't been any real love between Jasmine and her relatives, but he never imagined that their relationship had been this bad. "I… I had no idea, Miss Potter," he protested, "I knew that they weren't the warmest or kindest of people, and so that when I left you with your aunt and uncle that I'd be sentencing you to ten dark and difficult years, but I had no idea…."

This time Hermione cut him off, saying, "Did you ever check up on her? No, and since you didn't care enough to check on her, don't pretend that you care now. Don't pretend that her enjoying her childhood mattered when you just admitted that you knew she'd be enduring dark and difficult years! How can you claim to want to protect your students when you did nothing to protect Jasmine?" By now, the very foundations of the house itself were starting to tremble, and Dumbledore finally took notice of the effects of the two witches' combined anger.

"Miss Potter, Miss Granger. Please calm down," he implored them.

"Calm down? Calm down?" Jasmine exclaimed. "Why should we calm down? I just found out my parents died because of a stupid prophecy that you couldn't keep secret. I just found out that I'm the only one who can stop Voldemort, but you could never be bothered to train me. I just found out that you knew you'd be causing my life to be horrible and didn't care."

"Miss Potter," Dumbledore said, putting a bit more force than usual behind his words, "you were placed with your relatives because it was only there that the blood wards could be erected, and the blood wards provided you with the best possible protection against Voldemort's servants or even Voldemort himself. It's not that I didn't care, it's that I chose what I felt was the lesser of two evils — the far, far lesser, in fact. I knew that your childhood wouldn't be ideal, but you would have the best possible protection from wizards and witches who intended to harm you."

"But it didn't protect me from my relatives who **did** harm me," Jasmine hissed. She was still furious, but the power behind Dumbledore's words started pushing back against the witches' anger, and the trembling in the house began to subside.

"You have no idea how very, very sorry I am about that," Dumbledore said, sounding completely sincere. "They took you in voluntarily, which was necessary to seal the blood wards and which I thought meant that you would be accepted, even if you weren't doted upon. And it's true that I did not visit, but that was because I did not want to exacerbate your relative's distrust of magic. Instead, I did what I could to monitor your condition from afar."

Hermione fixed him with narrowed eyes. "The blood trackers, you mean."

Dumbledore gaped at her briefly before saying, "How? How could you…."

"It doesn't matter," Jasmine interrupted him. "We know. And we know that they are supposed to provide you with all sorts of detailed information about my health and condition. What did you do with that information?"

Dumbledore frowned and shook his head. "No, I never received what I would consider a detailed report. I was given general indications about your physical health. Occasionally a device would reveal that something was wrong, but it always went back to a positive reading within a day or two, and I concluded that it had simply reported the typical childhood illness or injury. That, combined with reports from Arabella Figg, led me to conclude that there was nothing so wrong that it required my personal intervention."

"Those instruments are capable of providing far more information than you received," Hermione said in a tone that was more than a little condescending. "I think you either weren't using them right, or didn't set them up right."

"Regardless," Jasmine added, "they would have only told you about the physical abuse, which was infrequent — and when it did happen, I healed pretty fast. I didn't know it at the time, but looking back I think it must have been my magic helping to heal me."

Dumbledore sighed and took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "That would be why the devices reverted to positive readings so quickly," he said softly. "And that might also help explain why they were unable to give me any information on you when you were abducted, though Fawkes was also unable to locate you. I must confess that that was the first and only time I had ever set up such devices. It is entirely possible that I did not do so correctly, but when I did set them up, I checked their readings against what I could see personally, and they appeared to be working correctly, so I simply assumed…"

Jasmine shook her head. "They probably wouldn't have been able to report on the emotional and psychological abuse, anyway. I can't imagine why you'd think Mrs. Figg would have been able to help — the Dursleys didn't like her much, and I didn't see her often. What's more, even on the best of days, I'm not sure she's entirely all there."

"I mainly wanted someone nearby to inform me about emergencies or anything that the magical tracking devices couldn't report on," Dumbledore explained. "And I'm afraid that she was the only person available. There were few people who I could be absolutely certain didn't sympathize at all with Voldemort and who could live in the muggle world. Please believe me that I didn't simply drop you there without any intention of ensuring that you'd be cared for. I knew you might not be as loved and nurtured as you deserved, but I intended for you to be as cared for and protected as you needed."

"Well, you didn't do a good job," Hermione said, her voice was quieter now than it had been before, but the anger and disappointment had not lessened.

"Indeed I did not," Dumbledore admitted, "and I cannot begin to express just how sorry I am for that. If I'd had the slightest inkling… I hope you will trust that I never intended…."

"Trust? Trust you?" Jasmine's laugh lacked any trace of humor. "Even if we discount all of the things you did to mess up my life, we wouldn't trust you. Not given how you use people without any regard to their wishes or well-being."

The confused expression on the Headmaster's face made it clear that he truly didn't understand, which only angered the two witches more. "Miss Potter, I've never used people like…."

"Does the second task of the Triwizard Tournament ring any bells?" Hermione asked bitterly. "You put me at the bottom of the Black Lake without asking for my permission. At the time, I had a letter from my parents forbidding my participation as anything other than a spectator, but you didn't seek their consent, either."

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but the magical agreement behind the tournament required me to obtain hostages…."

"And you could have asked for volunteers," Hermione interrupted. "You could have **asked**. Instead, you treated me like a tool. Like a **thing** that only existed to serve your needs. I don't care how pressing you felt your needs were, it was still wrong. It would have been wrong for anyone to do, but being a headmaster gives you a responsibility to protect all the students, not a right to use them in your own schemes whenever you see fit."

"I think you should go, Professor," Jasmine said suddenly. When Dumbledore looked up, he could see a slight glow behind the young witch's eyes. "I'm very… angry with you right now. You may not have acted maliciously, I'm honestly not sure at this point, but…."

"But you still treated her horribly," Hermione finished as she put her arm around the other witch's shoulders. "And you haven't treated me much better. She's right, you should go."

Dumbledore nodded, recognizing that there was no way he'd be able to apologize enough tonight, and that it would be best to try to continue this conversation once the two witches' anger had subsided. Without another word, he stood, cancelled the privacy charms on the door, and left.

Once he was gone, Hermione and Jasmine pulled each other into a tight embrace.

"I just can't believe it," Jasmine half-sobbed. "Another bloody... as if I didn't already have enough to do!"

"I know, I know," Hermione responded. "But you aren't in this alone, you know that? Right?"

Neither witch heard the creak of a floorboard outside the room.

"Why me? Why is it always me?" Jasmine asked.

"It'll be alright, luv," Hermione said soothingly. "We'll get through this together. Like I already told you, nothing will ever keep me from your side when you're in trouble."

Jasmine sighed. "Yeah, I know. It's just..." She looked into Hermione's worried eyes and said, "I love you so much, Hermione. I don't know what I'd do without you in my life. I'm already enough of a wreck as it is, but without you... I wouldn't have made it even this far."

"I know," the brunette witch responded. "I love you, too, Jasmine. And that's why I know we're going to make it through this. We love each other, and together, we'll be able to beat anything. Nothing was strong enough to defeat us even before we became a couple, and now that we're together we're stronger and better than ever."

* * *

Outside the sitting room, a dark figure investigating the source of the magical disturbances which had shaken the house stood stock-still next to a door that was neither silenced nor sealed. After a moment of stunned disbelief, the figure retreated as quietly as they had arrived, pondering what to do with this information.


	14. Shipping up to Hogwarts

**A/N:** Thanks everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad so many are enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Hiding in Plain Sight" by Clell65619. After putting an end to Voldemort, Harry returns to Hogwarts for his sixth year and has fun playing with a curious aspect of blindness among pureblood wizards and witches. But when Hermione finds out about it, things start to get interesting. Harry/Susan.

 _Italics_ : a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 14 - Shipping up to Hogwarts**

 **Tuesday, August 31, 1995, Evening.**

Albus Dumbledore stood before the open door of the muggle house with both anticipation and regret. He knew that tonight he would get something he'd long sought after, but he also knew that he wouldn't obtain it easily — or without burning a few bridges. The time had long passed, however, when he could afford to play nice. He'd been searching for this location all day, and now that he'd found it, he wouldn't be leaving empty handed.

He slowly opened the door and lit the hall before him with his wand. Everything was a wreck, and it just got worse when he entered the main living room. He looked across the debris, and when his gaze reached a large, overstuffed armchair, he frowned. In quick succession, he cast three strong stinging hexes at it, causing it to leap in the air and yelp in pain. _Quite uncharacteristic for armchairs_ , he thought, _but not so for..._

"Albus!" the armchair complained as it stretched and morphed into the recognizable figure of Horace Slughorn.

"Good evening, Horace," the Headmaster said genially, though none of the good humor reached his eyes.

"What do you think you're doing? What's the meaning of this?" Slughorn demanded indignantly.

"I need something from you, Horace," Dumbledore said, "and I mean to get it. Tonight."

"What the devil are you talking about?" Slughorn asked, confused and more than a little upset.

"I assume you're aware of what happened to young Miss Potter last term? Why, of course you are," Dumbledore went on without waiting for a reply. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be here. Hiding." He fixed the heavyset wizard with a stern glare. "He's back, and you know it. He was stopped back in 1981, and at great cost, but it was only temporary because he did something that enabled him to return."

Slughorn gulped audibly and stared wide-eyed at the older wizard, who still had his wand raised.

"What's more," Dumbledore went on, "you know how he accomplished that. We both do. However, you still know something I do not."

He tried to protest, "Albus, I assure you—"

"DO NOT LIE!" Dumbledore thundered. Gone was the kindly old grandfather, the man who seemed more than a bit barmy to his students. This was Albus Dumbledore, the wizard who defeated Gellert Grindelwald in single combat. "You know, Horace. You know. What's more, you've known for decades; but rather than share that knowledge with those who could use it for good, you've kept it hidden."

Dumbledore stepped closer to the other man, who was visibly trembling in his shoes. "I had been willing to give you time to come to me on your own, but I can see now that it was probably a mistake to wait for so long. Well, the time for keeping such secrets is at an end. He's back, he's on the move, and I need to know what you have known for so long."

"Bu-bu-but Albus, I—"

"I will have that information, Horace," Dumbledore said, allowing his magic to fill the room. It gave the impression that he towered over the man as if he were a giant, bent double in a small hovel. He knew he would regret this use of power later, but it needed to be done. "We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. I'm long past caring which."

When the muggles who owned the house returned from vacation the following week, they never saw anything which would suggest that something unusual might have transpired in their home while they were gone. The husband, though, would for years after swear that his favorite overstuffed armchair would occasionally shudder slightly, as if a large truck were passing by outside.

It seemed to happen most often when he was eating candied pineapple.

* * *

 **Wednesday, September 1, 1995, Late Morning.**

Jasmine let her mind drift as she listened to the monotonous clickety-clack of the train wheels and watched the equally monotonous scenery pass by outside the window. She hadn't wanted to think or do much of anything after Dumbledore had told her about the prophecy, but her friends pushed her to keep going, to keep moving. Now she was moving — or rather, the train was moving — without any effort being required on her part, and she wished it could stay that way. _Prophecies, politics, and more prophecies_ , she thought. _How am I supposed to deal with all of that?_

It was cramped in the compartment with so many people — in addition to her, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Neville, they were also joined by Fleur and Gabrielle. Jasmine didn't mind how crowded it was because it was an excellent excuse to have Hermione squished up against her — at least when none of them was out patrolling.

Fleur wouldn't normally have been there, since she was going to be a professor rather than a student, but Dumbledore had asked her to ride along as an extra security measure. Gabrielle was only too happy to make the trip rather than floo in directly if it meant she'd be there to help protect Jasmine and Hermione.

Shortly after Ron and Hermione had returned from the prefects' meeting, Jasmine felt her girlfriend nudge her with her elbow. When she looked over, she saw Hermione raise her eyebrows in a questioning look. Jasmine knew what that meant: _Shall we tell the others about the prophecy now?_ They'd debated for a good part of Monday about whether to tell Sirius and finally did so yesterday evening. In the end, they'd concluded that if anyone deserved to know, it was him. Maybe he could even help.

After a bit of pleading on his part, they agreed that he could pass the information along to the portrait of his mother, but no other portraits unless absolutely necessary. As helpful as the conversations with Elladora Black had been, not to mention the one session with the two duelling masters, Jasmine and Hermione were still a little uncomfortable with magical paintings knowing their secrets.

Jasmine sighed and nodded to her girlfriend. It was time. Hermione sealed and silence the door while Jasmine cleared her throat. "Sorry to interrupt," she said, "but we have something the rest of you need to know. Dumbledore told me about it on Sunday and I'd like you to know — but only you, no one else. Not yet, at least. I'll need a promise from you that you won't repeat it."

Everyone looked around a bit nervously, unsure about what could be so serious. "Do you want an oath?" Neville asked.

Jasmine shook her head. "No, I trust you all. I may not be willing to tell you all about every deep, dark secret I have, but I certainly trust you enough for this."

Once everyone had given their promise to keep the information to themselves, Jasmine explained to them what Dumbledore had told her. It was a short story, given how little of the prophecy he'd recited, but it was enough to stun everyone into silence. The one thing they didn't include was the fact that the prophecy could have referred to Neville — they thought it would be better to explain that to him in private later.

After a long minute during which everyone tried to process this news, Ron finally said, "Wow... that's... I guess that kind of explains a lot." When Ginny frowned at him, he tried to explain, "Well, look at everything that's happened to her — all the times he's come after her. Look at how much he focuses on her. It makes sense now, or at least some sense. Without the prophecy, it seemed a bit ridiculous that he'd be so obsessed with a young girl."

"Creepy would be a more accurate word," Hermione said, "but otherwise you're right."

"And it means that he's going to keep coming after you, right?" Neville asked. When Jasmine nodded, he went on, "That just makes it even more important that we be prepared."

"Prepared?" Ron asked.

"Defense training," Neville responded. "Last term, those of us who were in the same study group with Jasmine started training to use defensive and offensive spells, though Ginny and I started even before that. We were going to continue it this term, right, Jasmine?"

"Right," Jasmine answered. "And we'll probably expand it as well, perhaps in conjunction with S.P.E.W., though I expect more wizards to participate in defense training than the few who are part of S.P.E.W." Ron grimaced at hearing that name; luckily for him, Hermione didn't notice.

Movement outside the door caught Hermione's attention, and she said, "I ought to unseal the door because friends of ours will want to visit. Does anyone have any questions first, though?" When no one did, she continued, "We can talk about this again at Hogwarts. We'll probably want to tell our study group some time soon as well — they've proven themselves fairly trustworthy." Once she unsealed the door, her comment about friends wanting to visit was proven to be true because Susan and Hannah were already waiting to greet the Gryffindors. They were soon followed by Padma, Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise.

One surprising bit of information which Hermione had brought back from the prefects' meeting was how many of their group had been made prefects: Daphne and Blaise in Slytherin, Susan in Hufflepuff, and Padma in Ravenclaw. With the exception of Blaise, all squealed in happiness at seeing their friends and wanted to hug, something Jasmine still wasn't used to.

"Alright," Daphne said loudly, once everyone had exchanged greetings, "We witches in the study group have something to talk about. So if all the wizards would please leave?" Blaise rolled his eyes and simply stepped back, since he was already out in the corridor. "Sorry, Ginny," Daphne said, "but you, too, if you don't mind."

Neville looked at the other Gryffindor witches, who simply shrugged as if to say, "Not a clue." Ron's ears reddened. "Neville and I were here first," he started to say before he was interrupted by Daphne.

"We aren't kicking you out permanently, I promise you — this is just for a short conversation." She then turned to Jasmine and said, "It's important. Really."

Jasmine sighed and looked at the two Gryffindor wizards. "Please?" she asked. "I'm sure it won't take long." Neville and Ginny agreed graciously and Ron a bit less so, but they followed Blaise down the passage while the witches squeezed into the compartment.

"There's not enough room in here!" Hannah complained.

"So double up!" Tracey suggested, plopping herself on Daphne's lap. No one had any better ideas, so they started following suit: Gabrielle on Fleur's lap, Hermione on Jasmine's, Tracey on Daphne's, and Hannah on Susan's. And it was still a tight fit.

"The reason I wanted to talk to you all," Daphne began, "is because—"

"Hands up," Tracey interrupted, putting up her own hand, "everyone who has magical boobs!"

"Magical **what**?" Hermione asked, completely confused, while Daphne hung her head in her hand.

"Magical boobs!" Tracey said happily. "My boobs grew after that Midsummer's Eve ritual, and we want to see who else—"

The rest was lost as Daphne put her hand over Tracey's mouth. "Although her delivery leaves quite a bit to be desired, that is indeed the question I wanted to ask. Though, as I keep telling her, it's about more than just boobs growing. We also grew a bit taller and stronger. So who else has experienced rapid development, especially right at the end of last term?"

One by one, the others started raising their hands. Only Jasmine, Hermione, Fleur, and Gabrielle didn't. Hermione looked thoughtful for a few moments, then said, "Actually, now that you mention it, all last term I was developing a bit faster than I would have expected. I didn't think about it much at the time, but I did participate in three rituals before Midsummer's Eve." She turned to Jasmine and asked, "The same happened to you, right?"

Jasmine nodded. "I don't think I noticed it happening until after... uh, that Beltane ceremony that we so didn't go to. At all." Tracey snickered while Hermione rolled her eyes and asked the same question of the French witches.

"Oui," Gabrielle responded, "I was maturing all zrough last year, and it accelerated after Beltane. Which, I can assure you, I definitely attended." She got a dreamy smile on her face that made everyone incredibly curious — everyone except Jasmine and Hermione, who kept trying to look everywhere but at the young veela.

Fleur huffed. "Zat was only because you begged Maman for three days straight!"

"It worked, didn't it?" Gabrielle replied with a cheeky grin. She then turned and gave Jasmine an indecipherable look as she added, "And it was definitely worth it, because ze goddesses blessed us all more zan we could have hoped for."

Jasmine squirmed a bit, not sure what Gabrielle was getting at. "Are you sure? I mean... really?"

"She is right," Fleur said, unable to see the intense look Gabrielle was giving Jasmine. "I have never even heard of a ritual zat produced so much power. Everyone who attended agreed zat it was most impressive."

"I'm guessing you didn't expect this?" Daphne asked, torn between getting the conversation back on track and learning more about what happened during Beltane. When Jasmine and Hermione assured them that they had no idea, and hadn't even made the connection between the rituals and their own physical changes, Daphne continued, "That's fine, I don't think any of us mind, it was just... well, unexpected."

"Mind?" Padma asked incredulously. "I love it! I exercised this summer to get in shape for the DA this term, and because of those changes I started much more fit than I expected to be even by the end of hols."

"Does anyone think that it will happen again if we participate in more rituals?" Tracey asked. "I was hoping we'd be invited to more regardless, but this side effect has me looking forward to them even more."

Hermione shook her head. "I have no idea. It might, but it might not. We also don't know if the effects are simply an accelerated development of what would have happened to us anyway, or if we're going beyond what our normal development would have been."

"Well," Daphne said as they started to get up to leave, "I guess we'll simply have to try to find out."

"Before we all go, I can't help but wonder..." Susan said. When everyone stopped and looked at her, she asked, "What do you suppose happened to Professor McGonagall?"

* * *

Eventually they were alone again, and the compartment had settled into a comfortable silence. Hermione was leaning into Jasmine, Gabrielle was leaning into Fleur, Ginny and Neville were both sitting close, whispering to each other, and Ron looked like he was trying to figure things out. Before long, they received a visit they never would have expected: Theodore Nott, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. None of them looked happy, but Crabbe and Goyle looked downright furious.

"Well, Potty," Nott sneered. "I'm surprised you had the guts to come to Hogwarts this term. You know that—"

"Wait, wait," Jasmine said while holding up one hand. "What are you doing?" Everyone else in the compartment tried to subtly get ahold of their wands. Fleur couldn't, though, because she was holding Gabrielle's arm to prevent her from jumping up and attacking the boys in the doorway.

"What do you mean, what am I doing?" Nott demanded. "I have every right—"

"No," Jasmine interrupted, "I mean, this is Malfoy's schtick. I thought that once I sliced, diced, and flambéed his ass, I wouldn't have to put up with this shite anymore, but here you are, filling in for him in his absence. Why?"

Nott just sputtered, apparently thrown off balance at Jasmine's nonchalant description of what she'd done to the blonde ex-Slytherin.

"It's like he's a second-string Malfoy replacement," Hermione observed. "Oh, and, language, Jasmine."

"A second-string ferret," Ron corrected with a smirk. "Not good enough to play in the game unless your main ferret is sick or injured." Nott's face kept getting redder and redder.

"Is that what you are, Nott?" Jasmine asked with mock sympathy. "A second-stringer who's been thrown into the big game because ickle Draco got beaten up too many times by witches?"

"What makes you think you can do any better?" Ginny asked.

"Shut up!" Nott said, finally losing his temper. "Just shut up, you scum! Mudbloods, half-bloods, and blood traitors, the lot of you. When the Dark Lord gets through with you, you'll be on your knees begging for death. I'll personally—"

"I wouldn't finish zat, if I were you," Fleur said, her eyes narrowed in anger.

Nott scowled at her and asked, "Who asked you? Who are you anyway?"

"I am Fleur Delacour, and I will—"

"The creature from France?" Nott asked. "You were sent home where you belong. You shouldn't be here, you aren't even human." Nott started to draw his wand, but he and his minions suddenly found seven wands already drawn and pointed at them.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Fleur continued as she stood, "I will be your Defense professor zis year." Nott and the other two paled at hearing this. "And zat will be fifty points from Slytherin and a week of detentions for insulting a teacher. Do it again, and I will double it."

"Maybe you should leave while you're still ahead... well, actually you aren't ahead anymore, it's too late for that," Jasmine said. "So why don't you just leave before you make things even worse for yourself." She was sure he was going to stamp his foot in anger before he turned on his heel and stalked off.

"Sweet Morgana, I thought we were done with that sort of thing," Hermione said once the Slytherins had left.

"Maybe Nott is making a play for Malfoy's place in Slytherin?" Neville suggested.

"I won't pretend to understand Slytherin politics," Jasmine said. "We can just ask Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise when we see them next. If they don't already know, they'll probably know by then.

* * *

A little while after Ron and Hermione had returned from their scheduled patrol time, Fleur announced that she should go make her second patrol of the trip. Gabrielle took the opportunity to say that she needed the loo; once in the corridor, she motioned her sister to follow. After a furtive glance to make sure they were unobserved, they just barely squeezed inside the girls' loo, with Gabrielle sitting on the toilet so they'd both fit. Fleur sealed and silenced the door and asked, "So, what is it that you needed to talk to me about?"

"I had hoped that we wouldn't be sitting with so many people," Gabrielle replied. "I have important information from Maman. She says that a treaty has been signed with the goblins. It's quite extensive — more so than the Theledrion had hoped for, in fact."

"Will they be helping?" Fleur asked.

"Not directly," Gabrielle answered. "According to Maman, most of their treaties with wizarding governments forbid them from interfering with those governments — or wizarding politics at all — outside of their banking responsibilities as spelled out in the treaties."

Fleur sagged a little against the door. "And helping two witches who are expected to radically reform magical society would break those treaties, yes?"

Gabrielle nodded and said, "They think so and are reluctant to take the chance. However, they're willing to provide covert help because they support the cause."

"So what will they do?" Fleur asked, now curious.

"I'm not sure about the details," Gabrielle said, "but I got the impression that they would provide just about anything that the Theledrion asked for, so long as the veela take responsibility for using it and provide something in trade."

"Deniability," Fleur said sourly. "If it doesn't work out, they can pretend they weren't involved." Gabrielle nodded in agreement.

"So no direct help, then?" Fleur asked.

"Two things," Gabrielle said. "First, in an emergency, we can all seek sanctuary in Gringotts. If we can get in the door, they will protect us — but we are not to use this except as a last resort because it might lead to war. Second, there is a goblin agent in the castle who will make themselves known to you at some point. They will provide covert aid if they can."

Fleur's eyebrows went up in surprise. "An agent? In Hogwarts? That is unexpected. I hope they will be useful."

"As do I," Gabrielle said before wrapping her sister in a tight hug. "I've missed you, sister of mine!"

"I've missed you, too," Fleur said with a smile. "Are you feeling alright? You seemed rather... on edge. Intense. Back in the compartment, I mean."

Gabrielle cocked her head to one side as she regarded her sister. "Of course I'm fine," she said. "I was simply protecting our witches."

"Very well," Fleur sighed. "You'd better get back before they wonder if you've fallen in and send out a rescue party."

"Prat!" Gabrielle exclaimed as she poked her older sister in the stomach.

"Oi! You're lucky you haven't been sorted yet, or I'd take points!"

Gabrielle stuck out her tongue in a dignified manner that only a veela could achieve before she unsealed the door and left.

* * *

 **Wednesday, September 1, 1995, Evening.**

When the train arrived at Hogsmeade, Gabrielle was sent to ride the boats with the firsties (though according to Hermione, she was grumbling in French about being "too old for this sort of thing" as she stomped away). The others were surprised to see that Hagrid wasn't there to lead the first years across the lake. The half-giant had been a Hogwarts fixture since before their parents' days at the castle, and his absence was more than a little concerning. Unfortunately they didn't have time to ask about it as they were caught up in the throng of students moving towards the carriages that would take the upper years to the castle.

Jasmine didn't pay close attention to the Sorting Hat's song this year — it was something to do with inter-house unity — and barely noticed the sorting itself until Hermione gave a significant nod towards Professor McGonagall. At the reminder, Jasmine looked more closely and had to agree that their professor was indeed standing a bit taller and moving more easily than usual. A quick glance around the Great Hall told her that the other witches in their study group had been watching the Deputy Headmistress as well.

Soon McGonagall announced Gabrielle's sorting, and the obviously curious crowd grew even more hushed and attentive than usual. As soon as the Sorting Hat was placed on her head, it acquired what one could only call a surprised expression, followed by a look of intense concentration as it began its task.

 _ **My, my, this is the first time I've ever sorted a veela. And one of the few times I've ever had to sort a student of your age.**_

 _Is that you, Mr. Hat?_ Gabrielle asked, suddenly alarmed at the voice in her head.

 _ **Indeed it is. And so polite you are, too.**_

 _How are you speaking French?_ she asked, bewildered.

 _ **Technically, I'm not speaking at all,**_ the hat responded. _**I'm communicating in your mind — and since it's your mind, the language is the one you are most comfortable using.**_

 _That is very interesting! The enchantments on you must be amazing!_

 _ **They are at that,**_ the hat responded a touch smugly, _**but we are not here to talk about me and how amazing I am. We are here to get you sorted, as it were.**_

 _And how do you do that?_

 _ **I sort students based on how the Founders would have sorted them**_ **.** _**Much, though not all, comes from studying your personality. Given how much older you are than the students I usually deal with, though, that might be a bit more complicated.**_

 _Do you inform others about what you learn?_ she asked cautiously.

 _ **Absolutely not!**_ the hat replied indignantly. _**No matter what I see in here, no one learns about what I find. That restriction was created to ensure absolute neutrality on my part.**_

 _Good_. _Then put me in Gryffindor, please._

 _ **Oh? So sure, are you?**_ _**What makes you think that Gryffindor is the best house for you?**_

 _It is where I am needed_. _It's where Jasmine and Hermione already are._

 _ **I can't sort you into a house simply because that's where your friends are**_. _**Well, unless it's Hufflepuff, but that's neither here nor there. I cannot accept such reasoning and will make my own determination after examining your—**_

 _They may be my friends,_ Gabrielle interrupted, _but I am their shieldmaiden. I cannot fulfill my duties if I am in another house!_

 _ **Shieldmaiden?**_ the hat asked in confusion. _**What makes you think you're a... oh... oh, my.**_ The hat fell silent for a moment, then continued, _**That is interesting. You are a subject of a prophecy that is about as old as Hogwarts herself, and yet you have accepted it without complaint. You threw yourself into incredibly advanced training to do who-knows-what in defense of a couple you barely knew at the time. You have no idea what obstacles or enemies you will face, yet you're willing to do whatever it takes to help that couple fulfill their destiny. You... oh, dear.**_

 _What is it?_ Gabrielle asked.

 _ **Nothing, nothing,**_ the hat answered quickly.

 _Don't try to lie to me,_ Gabrielle said with a mental scowl. _This is_ _ **my**_ _head, and I can perceive deception. Need I remind you that veela are capable of conjuring magical fire with their bare hands?_

The hat would have gulped if it could. _**It's just that, well... you do know that something's not quite right in here?**_

 _Oh, that,_ she replied a little hesitantly. _I... do not think that it is a problem. Much._

 _ **Truly?**_ the hat asked a bit skeptically.

 _I am confident that I am what I was always meant to be,_ Gabrielle insisted. _I cannot imagine being any other way — not any more, at least. And my being this way is the will of the goddesses. Who are_ _ **you**_ _to gainsay_ _ **them**_ _?_

 _ **Indeed,**_ the hat said dryly. _**Well, with courage and dedication like that, the only house you could possibly belong in is...**_

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat, and the entire Gryffindor table cheered in response. Gabrielle trotted over to the table and received hugs from several Gryffindors she didn't know as she made her way to a place between Ginny and her two charges.

After the feast, the headmaster made his customary announcements, including the introduction of that year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Fleur Delacour. He pointed out that she and her sister were both veela and used the opportunity to reiterate the school's stricter policy on bullying and abuse. "Any taunts, insults, bullying, or abuse aimed at anyone's blood status, heritage, nationality, ethnicity, gender, or anything similar will not be tolerated," Dumbledore said firmly. "Violations of this policy will be met with the harshest of punishments — up to and including suspension and even expulsion for repeat, unrepentant offenders."

He let that sink in before going on. "You don't have to like or be friends with everyone else in the school. You do, however, have to show at least a minimal amount of courtesy, politeness, and respect. You do have to refrain from abusing others simply because they differ from you or fail to meet some set of standards you have. If you cannot do this, you do not belong here and will not remain here for long. Am I understood?"

When he saw the majority of the student body nod, he smiled again and led everyone in the customary singing of the school song before dismissing the students to their dorms.

* * *

"Dear Maman and Grandmere," Gabrielle wrote as she lay in her new dorm bed, "Classes don't start until tomorrow, but I wanted to write to let you know that I arrived at Hogwarts without any problems. Although the train takes much longer than using the floo like they do at Beauxbatons, it's a nice way to meet other students. I've never had a chance to just sit and talk casually with Jasmine and Hermione before, and I was nervous at first, but Fleur helped me relax around them."

Gabrielle stopped and bit her bottom lip in an unconscious imitation of what she had seen Jasmine and Hermione doing on the train. "I was of course sorted into the Gryffindor house with Jasmine and Hermione. You might not believe it, but the sorting is done by a hat — a hat that mimics sentience! It spoke to me in my mind and examined both my personality and memories to decide where I belonged. I'm not sure that even our best enchanting houses could produce an artifact like that. I wonder if you could get permission to examine it?

"Fleur has offered to let me spend time in her quarters if I start feeling uncomfortable like she did when she was away at school, but that would put me too far away from our witches. I intend to stay as close to them as possible. If Fleur could bear the discomfort last year, then I can do it this year! We already failed them once by not coming to their aid over the summer, and I refuse to let them down again. At least they don't hold that against us, but I swear that I'll make them and you proud of me.

"It's been a long day of travel and I need to sleep for tomorrow. Give my love to the rest of the family! Love, Gabrielle."

* * *

As the Hogwarts students laid down to sleep, their bellies full from the welcoming feast, far to the north, in the middle of the cold, unforgiving sea, an even colder and more unforgiving wizard ordered his servants to begin their attack on the fortress-prison which housed the rest of his most faithful servants as well as a few potential recruits. _We had expected to have more time to build up Our resources before taking this step_ , he thought to himself. _But given Our recent losses, We need these troops more than ever... even if their care and rehabilitation will stretch what little We have to the breaking point. Hopefully Severus was right that he'd be able to handle them all when he suggested doing this so soon._

It was a move of desperation, but he labored hard to conceal that, lest he be thought weak.

He looked around at his assault force and ordered them to begin their run. He just hoped that none of those being broken out tonight became aware of his recent health problems or magical weakness. _They may be some of Our most faithful followers, but after so many years in Azkaban, they won't be the most sane or stable followers We've ever had. Not that Bella was ever quite right in the head._

The dementors had already agreed to switch allegiances to him — some nonsensical complaint about their brethren being sent off to be killed had been the deciding factor to abandon the Ministry — so all that was necessary was for the walls to be breached and the pitiful auror guard force overwhelmed. Instead of attacking at the front gates, where the walls were strongest, he sent his servants on brooms to strike at the roof, where apparently no one had ever anticipated an attack. _Stupid purebloods_ , he thought, and not for the first time.

He himself hung back, ostensibly to observe the whole operation in order to judge how everyone fought; only he knew it was because he wouldn't have been nearly as effective in a fight as he should have been.

Once a massive explosion had opened a large hole in the roof, everything seemed to move much faster. The auror guards were overwhelmed in a few minutes, especially with the dementors inciting fear from behind them, and his servants started releasing people from their cells — only those who agreed to follow him, of course. The rest were simply killed. They may not have been threats, but they were witnesses, and their deaths would inspire fear in others.

When the facility was secure, he made his grand entrance. With Bella cackling in the background, he strode through the central courtyard, inspecting both the assault force and the rescued faithful. He was pleased to see that there had been no casualties among his Death Eaters — well, none except for a new recruit who had lost his leg to a cutting curse from one of the aurors.

Very shortly, Azkaban's warden was brought forward and pushed to his knees. Voldemort sneered down at the quivering man. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to join our cause? To take the Dark Mark and help us rid the magical world of filth and vermin?"

The color drained from the man's face, then he steeled himself and shook his head. He could have spoken, but evidently he didn't trust his voice. Voldemort considered ordering the man to be tortured to death, but time wasn't on their side. "Very well," he said. "Under other circumstances I'd consider leaving you alive to tell the world what happened here, but I'm afraid that I can't do that in this case."

He looked up to Walden Macnair, then looked away, knowing that the man was too much of a sadist for this situation. Finally he picked out the form of Nott and motioned for him to come over. "Make it quick," he ordered, then walked away while Nott executed the warden. In short order, everyone was aloft on the brooms and heading back for the Malfoy estate.

* * *

 **Thursday, September 2, 1995. Morning.**

When Jasmine and Hermione came down to breakfast, everyone seemed to be in a good mood, anxiously looking forward to the first day of classes. Shortly after they sat down, they were joined by their friends, with Ginny sitting next to Neville and Luna next to Ron. It didn't escape their notice that Ron's ears were just a touch red, a sign that he was embarrassed about something. Jasmine smiled at Hermione, and they silently agreed not to say anything about it.

Soon owls started arriving with mail and newspapers, and it didn't take long for the girls to realize that something was very wrong. More and more people fell silent as they started reading the _Daily Prophet,_ while those conversations that continued took on a different, darker quality. It was only when copies of the _Daily Prophet_ reached the Gryffindor table that they finally learned the cause of the unrest.

Across the front page in large letters was the headline:

 **AZKABAN BREAKOUT! DEATH EATERS ESCAPE!**

 _MINISTRY HAS EVIDENCE SIRIUS BLACK TO BLAME_

"I can't believe this!" Jasmine hissed. She wanted to rant and rave, but she couldn't without admitting that she had been in contact with her godfather.

"It'll be alright," Hermione said, putting a hand on Jasmine's arm. "It's just a lie, and the truth will come out soon enough."

 _Yeah, and in the meantime the hunt for him will just get worse_ , Jasmine thought bitterly.

As she looked around the Great Hall, she noticed that some students weren't particularly upset: over at the Slytherin table, she saw quite a few faces that looked positively gleeful, and she wondered how many of them had been expecting this news. Nott in particular looked awfully pleased, and Jasmine resolved again to watch out for him during the coming term.

Returning her attention to the Gryffindor table, she noticed how Ginny seemed to be trying to comfort Neville without doing anything too overt. _I guess their relationship has progressed a bit further than I had realized_ , she thought with a smile. Shifting her gaze, she saw how Luna kept looking at Ron as she ate, and wondered just what the young Ravenclaw's feelings were.

"Let's just finish our breakfast and get to class," Hermione said resignedly. "There's nothing we can do about this now."

"True," Jasmine agreed, "but that doesn't mean that there's nothing at all we can do. These escaped Death Eaters are the worst of the worst." Neville nodded fervently. "They'll be coming for us and our families sooner or later," she continued, "and we need to start getting ready."

Neville looked a bit ill but was clearly determined. "Just let me know when and where," he said grimly.

Jasmine was prevented from answering when Hermione got an idea. "Say, Luna," she said, "how are you with Defense Against the Dark Arts and dueling?"

"Oh, I'm OK," she said somewhat airily.

"Don't let her fool you," Ginny said with a snort. "The twins gave up trying to prank her when they discovered just how creative she could be with common household spells." Luna didn't respond to that, but she smiled as if she were remembering something fondly.

"How would the two of you," Hermione said to the two younger witches, "like to receive lessons on more and advanced spells for Defense?"

* * *

Albus Dumbledore smiled at the surprised faces of the fifth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins as they entered the Potions lab on the first day of classes. He had hoped that he would have been able to successfully convince Horace Slughorn to at least fill in for Severus over the coming months — he had a feeling that his Potions professor would end up being called away quite a bit for his other duties. Unfortunately, negotiations hadn't gone quite as smoothly as he'd hoped, and he'd had to get rather forceful near the end. That meant that Horace would be unavailable for substitute teaching duties — or much of anything else, in fact — for the foreseeable future. _But at least he's safe from Voldemort and his minions_ , Dumbledore considered.

Since he didn't want the Ministry to use this as an excuse to foist one of Fudge's flunkies on him, he decided to take over himself. Becoming an alchemist required advanced potions study, so he was more than qualified — on paper, at least. It had been years since he taught, and even then his subject had been Transfiguration, so this was going to be an interesting experience. For everyone.

"Welcome, welcome," he said as the last students filed in and took their seats. "Your Potions professor is indisposed, so I will be taking over for a couple of days. Unfortunately, I'm not certain where Professor Snape intended to start, so I've chosen to begin your year with the Draught of Peace — it's required knowledge for your OWLs at the end of the year, and you should all be capable of brewing it."

Dumbledore then proceeded to explain how the potion was brewed, some of the most common pitfalls, a tip for getting past a particularly tricky step, and why certain techniques were important. _Curious_ , he thought once he'd told them to get started, _all of the Gryffindor students seemed surprised to be hearing such information... not the Slytherins, just the Gryffindors. It's almost as if no one had ever bothered to explain such things to them!_

He dismissed that as nonsense, though, and began to walk around the room, offering helpful advice and corrections as he went. That, too, seemed to surprise the Gryffindor students, but Dumbledore chalked it up to a trick of the light.

* * *

 **Thursday, September 2, 1995. Afternoon.**

Voldemort threw the Daily Prophet across the room in anger. On the one hand, he was pleased that the breakout of Death Eaters from Azkaban hadn't been linked to him, thus allowing him to continue working from the shadows. On the other hand, his pride wouldn't accept the fact that such an audacious act — one long thought to be impossible — had been attributed to someone else. _**We**_ _are the greatest wizard to ever live_ , he fumed silently. _**We**_ _planned and executed that raid._ _ **We**_ _should receive accolades for the deed!_

Before his anger could build any further, the doors to his throne room opened and Severus Snape stepped in. He glanced briefly at the torn newspapers before approaching and kneeling before Voldemort's throne.

"What news do you bring Us, Severus," the Dark Lord asked. "Are your efforts to heal Our servants meeting with the success you promised Us?"

"Yes, my Lord," Snape answered. "For the most part, everything is going just as I predicted."

"For the most part?" Voldemort asked dangerously.

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said. "The potions I am administering are healing their bodies just as I promised you. However," he hesitated just a little before continuing, "the mental state of some of your servants is proving to be... a hinderance."

"Explain," Voldemort ordered.

"Some insist that they don't need potions — that their faith in you all these years has sustained them, and that simply being in your presence once more will be more than enough to repair their bodies," Snape said quickly.

"Some?" Voldemort asked in a voice that was now tinged with exasperation.

"Bellatrix, mostly," Snape admitted, "though some of the others have started agreeing with her. While I of course share their faith in you, my Lord, I believe that they would heal faster if they..."

"Yes, yes, you're quite right," Voldemort reassured his potions master. Sighing deeply, he moved his hand to his face as if to rub the bridge of his nose... but then he remembered that he didn't have a nose, which just worsened his mood. "I'll speak to them."

"Thank you, my Lord."

When the man didn't make to leave, the Dark Lord asked, "Is there something else?"

"Yes, my Lord," Snape answered. "I assume you saw today's _Daily Prophet_?"

"Yes, what of it?" Voldemort growled out, feeling his recently developed patience wearing thin and wondering if he should just cast the _Cruciatus_ curse now and get it over with.

"While it is unfortunate that we are not yet able to proclaim to the public how you masterminded that glorious deed," Snape said fawningly, "this arguably creates an opportunity to further direct people's attention away from you, while discrediting both Dumbledore and Potter even more."

"How?" Voldemort asked.

"A small Death Eater raid, including a few of the healthiest and, ah, sanest of those broken out of Azkaban," Snape explained. "They can cause a little mayhem and destruction while proclaiming their allegiance to Sirius Black. Everyone will redouble their efforts to find him, and whenever someone like Dumbledore insists that you have returned, people will be able to point to hard evidence showing that it's Black who's creating mayhem, not you. Then your servants can start to act more openly because people will automatically associate them with Black. You will remain in the shadows, hidden from view, but your servants will be marching towards your ultimate victory."

Lord Voldemort smiled for the first time that day.


	15. Witches Are Doing It For Themselves

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Call Me Moriarty" by Professor Scrooge. This is a delightful story in which Jasmine Potter comes out of her abusive childhood with more than few a sociopathic tendencies, not to mention an interest in taking over Wizarding Britain. Her role model isn't Voldemort, though, it's Professor Moriarty, and her intellect is both matched and challenged by Hermione Granger, whose role model is Sherlock Holmes. And just to complicate matters, they manage to fall for each other as well.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 15 - Witches Are Doing It For Themselves**

 **Thursday, September 2, 1995. Evening.**

Jasmine looked around the Room of Requirement at the young witches and wizards who made up their study group. They'd only started meeting last term, but they'd quickly formed strong bonds of friendship that had gotten stronger as the Spring term wore on. Despite how often Jasmine expressed an interest in just abandoning Britain to what she suspected was a well-deserved fate, every time she thought of these people, she had more and more trouble believing her own threats.

Against all odds, each of these witches and wizards was becoming a friend, and every one of them had shown just how important the group was to them by getting so much work done over the summer. Susan and Hannah had obtained an auror handbook, gotten extra defense training, and produced a booklet that explained how Death Eaters typically attacked homes. The one thing they couldn't manage was getting portkeys — they were too tightly regulated, according to Susan's aunt.

Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise had created a booklet about eavesdropping spells and how to counter them — basically, a manual for how to spy and how to avoid being spied on. Padma had written a booklet on the best ways to defend a home from attack. Neville had surprised everyone by coming to the first meeting with a list of laws that resulted in disadvantages for witches in British magical society — laws that S.P.E.W. would have to target for change or repeal in the coming years. He even included an outline of how to best go about dealing with them and offered to launch the effort once he came into his political inheritance.

He was quickly given bone-crushing hugs from every witch in the group, prompting a blush that hadn't quite dissipated even half an hour later.

Everyone had worked hard to contribute something that would be useful. Jasmine and Hermione made multiple copies of each and handed them out to everyone with instructions to read them and write down any corrections or suggestions. The original authors would then use the notes to create final versions that would be duplicated for all members of S.P.E.W. and the DA.

Next, there were a few organizational issues to deal with before moving on to practical training.

"Jasmine and I were talking," Hermione started out, "and we realized that while our study group, S.P.E.W., and the DA are all separate, **keeping** them separate may not be possible in practice. So we should just accept that we'll discuss S.P.E.W. and DA issues during study group time."

"So?" Hannah asked.

"The problem is that there's too much work for too few people," Jasmine said. "The solution is to bring in a couple more students to help manage S.P.E.W. and the DA, but that means they'll need to be part of the study group, too."

"We'd like to bring in two people we know and trust," Hermione went on. "Ginny Weasley, as another witch to help with Gryffindor, and Luna Lovegood to help Padma with Ravenclaw. We'd also like to bring in Gabrielle Delacour — not to help manage the groups, since she may only be here for a year, but she's had extra defense training and could help us with the DA. Her sister, who's our new Defense professor, may help with that as well."

When there were no objections, they sent Dobby and Winky to fetch the three fourth-year witches, and within a few minutes they joined everyone else in the Room of Requirement.

"So, the biggest issue facing us is defense," Jasmine announced. "With the Azkaban breakout, it's clear that things will be getting more dangerous. We'd like to help everyone, but Hermione and I can't teach the entire school."

"So we had the idea that Jasmine, Gabrielle, and I would train you with what we know," Hermione continued. "Plus Susan and Hannah learned some things from Mad-Eye Moody which they'll show everyone here. Once we're all comfortable that we have a solid foundation, you'll start training members of your houses who want to join the DA and learn defense." Everyone agreed that that would probably make the most sense, though some of them were uncertain about their ability to teach.

"During the tournament, Hermione and I would train three times a week," Jasmine said. "We'll continue to do that, but one or two sessions will include training you. You would then train your housemates two or three times a month, and maybe we'd all meet for one big session once a month." That made everyone feel a lot better about what they'd be expected to do.

"So, let's get started," Hermione said, organizing the study group into a line so they could start practicing accuracy. Defense classes at Hogwarts taught students how to cast basic offensive and defensive spells, not how to best survive magical combat, and they all recognized that they'd have a lot of work to do.

This first session of practical training went on for a while, and Jasmine and Hermione used some of the time to answer questions about what happened to them during the summer. Of course, everyone wanted to hear again about the attacks on their homes, especially the fate of Draco Malfoy.

"Quite a few people are happy to see him gone," Tracey said, "but unfortunately Nott is trying to take his place. He even has Crabbe and Goyle following him around like Malfoy did." She rolled her eyes.

"Nott's been insufferable," Daphne added. "He acts like we should all be bowing to him, which is basically how Malfoy behaved, but he's even **less** competent than Malfoy was. I honestly didn't think that was possible."

"It's more annoying than dangerous," Tracey assured them, "but we're watching each other's backs."

"We're not sure what to do about Parkinson," Blaise said. "With Malfoy gone, she seems lost. She hasn't recanted all of the awful things she's said, but she also hasn't gone to Nott for protection or support."

"At the end of last term I started talking to her," Tracey added, "but she never opened up to me, and she's been avoiding me so far this term."

"We'll both keep trying, though," Daphne said.

Everyone was quite tired by the time they were done, but they all made progress and could tell that they were learning important things that might save their lives.

* * *

 **Friday, September 3, 1995. Late Morning.**

Fleur Delacour was a nervous bundle of firsts for Hogwarts. She was the first female Defense professor for as long as anyone could recall; she was the first French professor in living memory; and she was the first veela professor in the entire history of Hogwarts.

Fleur already had plenty of reasons to do a good job, but being the first in so many different ways put an extra burden on her. She knew that if she wasn't outstanding, she might well be the last member of any of those groups to have that job. It was unfair, but she knew that it was how the world worked.

As she watched the fifth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins file in, she wondered about why those two houses were paired together for a class as dangerous as this. To be fair, any magical class could be dangerous, but Fleur knew that it would be safer if they were paired in classes like Astronomy and Herbology, not Defense — not a class where they'd already be casting spells, sometimes at each other.

"Good morning," she said once everyone was in their seats. "As you know, I am Professor Delacour, and I will be teaching you Defense Against ze Dark Arts. Your last four years of classes were… inconsistent in zeir quality, which is a problem since you will be sitting for your OWLs at ze end of ze next term. After going over ze lessons from ze past few years, I have decided zat you will need an accelerated course if you are to have any hope of passing zat important exam."

This was greeted with a chorus of groans and complaints from most of the students of both houses. By far the most negative reaction came from Nott — he remained silent, but the hostility in his eyes was unmistakable. "I am sorry," she continued, "but it is necessary. I will not make it any harder than needed, but all of ze work you do will involve spells and knowledge zat has been part of OWLs in ze past." Once she was satisfied that they all understood, she said, "Up out of your seats! Grab your wands!"

When everyone was standing, wands in hand, Fleur waved her own wand, causing all of the desks and chairs to stack up against the walls. "In ze class, we will focus on ze practical aspects of defensive magic. You will be responsible for reading ze text on your own time. You will have essays every week to show that you have read and understood ze material."

This, too, was greeted with groans, but she spoke over them, telling them to form two lines on either side of the class. They spent the rest of the class practicing _Expelliarmus_ and _Protego_ , yet even with these basic spells, all but the students who had been working with Jasmine and Hermione were woefully far behind. Still, she felt she was already seeing progress by the end of the lesson, which gave her some hope.

She noticed the girls themselves were quietly giving pointers to those around them and trying not to look too bored at such remedial work.

Once the week's essay had been assigned and the class dismissed, Fleur motioned Jasmine and Hermione to stay behind. "I know you have lunch and I won't keep you," she said once they were alone, "but how do you zink I did?" Despite having appeared confident and self-assured during the lesson, it was apparent that Fleur was just as nervous as anyone else would be on their first day at a new job.

"Great!" Hermione said with a smile. "I think this will be the best Defense class we've ever taken, once everyone gets caught up."

"I could do with less homework," Jasmine said with a hopeful look, "but…."

Hermione elbowed her in the side. "Don't listen to her, it's fine. We need that in order to be prepared for the written portion of our OWLs." Jasmine rolled her eyes but didn't say anything.

"Do you have any zoughts on ze private training we need to do?" Fleur asked.

"We met with our study group last night," Jasmine responded. "The two of us plus Gabrielle will train them, then they will train their housemates. So we were hoping that you and Gabrielle would work with us a couple of times a week, and maybe one of those times would be when we are working with our friends?"

Fleur frowned and thought for a moment. "Zat eez possible, but our focus must be on you, not on your friends. Maybe a couple of evenings each week with ze four of us and one weekend morning with you and your friends?"

The girls nodded in agreement. "How about Sunday mornings, starting this weekend?" Jasmine asked.

"I'll be zere," Fleur said with a broad smile. "Now go before you miss lunch."

* * *

 **Friday, September 3, 1995. Evening.**

Even if Hermione hadn't been friends with Ron for nearly four years, she'd have been able to tell that he had something on his mind. He clearly wanted to ask something, yet he spent the whole meal trying to work up the courage to do it.

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione finally asked in exasperation. "What do you want to know?"

Ron's head snapped in her direction, his fork still mid-way to his mouth. At first he looked surprised, then embarrassed, and finally resigned. Putting his fork down, he sighed and said, "It's just that… well… I was wondering how you two got so good at Defense. I know you trained together a bunch for the Tournament, but... it still surprised me that you were so much better than I was in class today. I mean, all through our first three years, we were pretty similar in what we could do."

Now it was Hermione's turn to feel surprised because she hadn't been expecting this. _I should have, though_ , she admitted to herself. _Even if Ron didn't have jealousy issues at times, I should have realized that he'd notice how much Jasmine and I have progressed and that this would bother him, at least a little._

Before she could respond, Jasmine spoke up. "That's actually something we were thinking of talking to you about. A lot of what we can do is because of the work we did for the Tournament, but our intention is to help others get better too, so they can defend themselves against Death Eaters and their sympathizers."

"You mean, like those who broke out of Azkaban?" Ron asked, looking a little paler.

"Yes," Hermione answered, "as well as those who escaped justice last time, and those who join up this time."

"Hermione, Gabrielle, and I will be teaching our study group — you remember, the group we worked with last year from all four houses?" At Ron's nod, Jasmine continued, "They, in turn, will be teaching members of their houses. If you want, you can join the core study group in defense training, too — we'll be meeting a couple of times a week to train, then you'll have to help train other Gryffindors a few times a month."

Ron frowned. "I'm not sure. That sounds like an awful lot of work."

Jasmine nodded. "It is, and it isn't even as much work as Hermione, Gabrielle, and I will be putting in personally — the three of us will be doing even more training sessions each week on top of that."

"Why?" Ron asked, shocked that they would be putting in so much work for just one class.

"Because, you ninny," retorted Ginny, who had been listening in on the conversation, "You-Know-Who is back and is going to come after her. Obviously his followers will keep coming after her, too. She has to do this in order to survive."

Ron's face reddened at having to be reminded of that. "It's sad, but true," Jasmine said. "I don't like it, but I can't simply put my head in the sand and pretend that everything will turn out alright."

"Who else is doing this, again?" Ron asked.

"Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise from Slytherin," Hermione said, eliciting a scowl from him. "Susan and Hannah from Hufflepuff, Luna and Padma from Ravenclaw, and Neville and Ginny from Gryffindor."

Ron's head swivelled back and forth between Luna and Ginny. "You two are doing this?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course," Ginny replied. "I don't want to be an easy target for Death Eaters. I've spent far too much time here being a victim — like Jasmine, I refuse to be a victim anymore."

"It'll be a lot of work, Ron," Luna said while looking closely at him, "but I think it'll be worth it. I'm sure that extra defense practice will chase away some of those wrackspurts that are nesting in your ears. I'm just starting out, too, so we could help each other, if you'd like."

Ron looked doubtful as he turned back to Jasmine and Hermione. "I'll have to think about it. I'm already feeling a bit overwhelmed with all the work the professors are giving us, and it's only the second day. And that's not even taking into account how much they keep harping on our OWLs, even though those are months and months away."

Hermione tsked and was about to berate Ron about the importance of revising ahead of time, but before she could get started, Jasmine put a hand on her arm and gave a very slight shake of her head. Hermione realized she was right: scolding him would only make things worse. She'd spent a lot of time during their first three years pushing him, and he'd pushed right back the entire time… except for when homework was due or the night before a test. Last year she'd left him alone because of how he'd treated Jasmine, yet even without her pushing, he'd still passed. _Maybe I need to let him sink or swim on his own_ , she thought ruefully.

"That's fine, Ron," Jasmine said, "the invitation will remain open. Just know that the longer you wait, the further behind you'll be, so it will be that much harder to get involved."

* * *

"Come in," Fleur called out in response to the knock at her door. She'd been going over her lesson plans for the next week and was surprised to receive a visitor so late on a Friday night. Her surprise wasn't diminished when the door opened and Filius Flitwick entered. "Good evening," she said with a smile as she rose from behind her desk. She led him to a small table and chair set that had come with the Defense Professor's office and offered him some tea.

When he declined, she asked, "What brings you here zis evening, Professor Flitwick?"

"Please, call me Filius," he said warmly. "I was just wondering how your first week — or partial week, I suppose — went here at Hogwarts."

"Oh, very well," she said. "But I am glad it was a short week. It makes ze transition to teaching easier. And please, call me Fleur."

Flitwick nodded in agreement. "I hear you have an ambitious agenda for your classes, especially your fifth and seventh years."

"Oui," Fleur said with a sigh. "Zey are woefully behind on what zey need to learn for zeir OWLs and NEWTs, so we must play catch-up, which means a lot of work."

"That is unfortunate," Flitwick said sympathetically, "but I may be able to help." He pulled a sheaf of parchment from his bag and handed it over to her, saying, "These are all charms I can teach, categorized by year, which have uses in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Usually I leave them to the Defense teachers, but I can put some focus on them in order to take a bit of the load off of your classes."

"Oh, zank you!" Fleur said with genuine appreciation as she flipped through the parchment. "Some of zese will be very, very helpful." Looking up, she said, "Can I get back to you on which ones would help me ze most?"

"Of course," Flitwick responded. "If you let me know by Monday, I can start inserting them into my current lesson plans as early as next week."

"Excellent," Fleur said as she put the parchment on the table. "Was zere something else you wanted to see me about? Something zat would require a bit more privacy, perhaps?"

"Quite right, my dear," Flitwick responded as he pulled his wand and began casting privacy spells on the door, walls, ceiling, and floor.

"Zen I was right," Fleur observed. "You are my contact here."

"Indeed," he responded. "It should be obvious, but most witches and wizards miss the obvious, I find." Once he finished with his privacy spells, he sat back in the chair and continued, "Now, I was given a rather strange message. It was so strange, in fact, that I've memorized it simply due to the sheer number of times I've reread it in an effort to make sense out of it. According to my contact at Gringotts, I'm supposed to work with you so that the goblin and veela nations can secretly assist two underage witches in Hogwarts overthrow worldwide wizarding culture as we know it. I was also informed that you'd explain what this means, and that I'm supposed to say the word 'Predire' to you as proof that I should be told whatever it is that is supposed to explain all that."

Fleur smiled with amusement at the diminutive Charms professor as she began to speak.

* * *

Two hours later, Filius Flitwick slumped in his favorite chair in his private quarters. He poured himself a rather large measure of firewhiskey, then drank most of it in one gulp. Once he expelled the fire from his mouth, he sighed in exhaustion. "I'm **really** not getting paid enough for this," he muttered to himself.

* * *

 **Saturday, September 4, 1995. Morning.**

Jasmine arrived at the Room of Requirement just as the S.P.E.W. leadership meeting was ending. Part of her deal with them was that she wouldn't have to be involved in the regular management of the group: Hermione would keep her informed about what was going on, and she'd attend meetings where she was needed, but otherwise she would keep her distance and use the time for other pursuits.

Now that that meeting was over, though, it was time for everyone to begin the next practical defense session. Hermione and Jasmine had been run ragged the previous evening, not expecting their veela shieldmaidens to start out focusing on physical fitness and endurance. Despite the jogging they had both done early in the summer, they hadn't been able to continue after moving to Grimauld Place; even so, it wouldn't have been enough to prepare them for what Fleur and Gabrielle had put them through.

What was more, Fleur and Gabrielle insisted that they had endured much, much worse every day after the second task. The two Gryffindor witches didn't want to believe it, but after getting a good look at how fit and muscular the veela were, they couldn't doubt it, either. Hermione hadn't noticed any of that over the summer and was informed that almost every veela around her and her family at the time had been Amazzi, highly trained warriors whose skills and fitness levels made the sisters look like couch potatoes.

That didn't make the girls feel any better about themselves, so they had decided to pay it forward by putting their DA leadership group through a tough workout, too. Misery loves company, after all.

* * *

 **Saturday, September 4, 1995, Evening.**

"Dear Maman and Grandmere," Fleur wrote, "I know Gabrielle already wrote to you about our trip and her sorting, so I'll just say that she seems to be enjoying her classes so far. She isn't struggling with English much and even appears to be handling the lack of physical contact better than I did. I'm enjoying my classes as well, though I have yet to get over being nervous when standing in front of the students. I've come to realize just how much is resting on my success, and it is quite daunting. I promise, though, that I won't let any of you down.

"I've met my contact, and we will start working together soon. I'm including their report on the current state of the forest — evidently it has continued to flourish. By any possible measure, it is vastly improved over what it once was, and the centaurs are happier than anyone has ever seen them. I haven't had a chance to inspect the area myself, but I'm looking forward to it. I find myself wondering if how this forest looks now is what the world once looked like — magical and non-magical plants and animals flourishing together in harmony.

"With the Azkaban breakout, training will be even more important than ever before. The morning the breakout was announced, I could see fear in many students' eyes. I've agreed to help Jasmine and Hermione train some of their friends, so my schedule will be even busier than I had expected, especially since their previous Defense classes were so horrid. Tell everyone else how much I miss them! Love, Fleur."

* * *

 **Sunday, September 5, 1995, Early Morning.**

Jasmine grumbled the whole way from the Great Hall to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. That morning, the _Daily Prophet_ had published yet another article about the Azkaban breakout, this time highlighting all of the aurors who were killed and attributing their deaths to Sirius Black personally. A separate article reported a sighting of Sirius in London and promised that there would be increased patrols among both muggles and magicals in order to capture the heinous terrorist as soon as possible.

Jasmine knew it was all rubbish, but she feared for her godfather — especially since he was indeed in London. Any extra attention on that city only increased the risk to him since she was sure that he'd be going stir-crazy in that house and wouldn't be able to remain cooped up forever. "Don't let it get you down, Jas," Hermione said in an effort to reassure her. "He's safe for now, and there's nothing you can do anyway. There are, however, important things right here that you need to focus on."

"Yeah, yeah," Jasmine responded. "I know. I can't help it. I wish I knew what mental illness Fudge is suffering from, though."

"Cranial-Rectal Inversion?" Hermione offered with a smirk.

There was a beat while Jasmine processed that, then she snorted in amusement. "Oh, yeah, that's definitely him," she said, chuckling. "I wonder how his lime green bowler fits, though."

Fortunately Myrtle was gone when they finally reached the bathroom, so Hermione called Dobby and Winky while Jasmine opened the sink entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. As planned, the elves popped in with two large bags of supplies and Jasmine's broom. "Are you two ready to go?" Hermione asked. Both looked nervous but nodded gamely.

Hermione didn't like riding brooms, but it would make this trip far easier, and she would never be high off the ground. As the two witches glided down the pipe, the house elves stayed close by to be safe.

Once they cleared the cave-in and reached the sealed door, Jasmine gave the parseltongue password, and they all stepped cautiously inside. The basilisk was indeed still there, and at first glance it looked to be in decent shape, but the odor of rot made it clear that its looks were probably deceiving.

Hermione gaped in shock at the size of the beast. "Jasmine, I know you told us how big it was, but hearing about it and seeing it are completely different things. I can't believe you faced this thing alone!" Jasmine was quickly wrapped in a tight hug by her girlfriend while the elves followed the plan they'd worked out earlier. The first step was to magically preserve the corpse in its current state so that it wouldn't get any worse, which they achieved by using charms similar to those used by elves to preserve food. Second was to search the Chamber of Secrets for any potential threats, such as further cave-ins or any other "beasties" which might have moved in in the basilisk's absence. Finally, they were to look for additional exits.

At no point was either elf allowed to work alone — they had to promise to work as a pair so that if anything happened to one, the other could help.

After Hermione had calmed down enough to let Jasmine go, the two of them walked gingerly around the basilisk to gauge how bad it was.

"This… is disgusting," Hermione announced, wrinkling her nose. "Completely and unambiguously disgusting."

"The skin seems to be alright," Jasmine observed, "but something inside is definitely a bit worse for wear. I wonder why it looks so good, though?"

"Given how old and large it is," Hermione said, "it probably absorbed a lot of magic, which probably has at least some preservation qualities. Also, the poison might keep bacteria and scavengers away."

"I suppose that makes some sense," Jasmine responded. "Witches and wizards live longer and are more resistant to injury. I guess it shouldn't be surprising if magical creatures are similarly resistant to… well, decay, as gruesome as that sounds."

After the girls had wandered around for a few minutes, the two elves popped in next to them and reported that while the Chamber was safe, they hadn't found any obvious exits.

"Okay, then," Jasmine responded as she pulled out a magical tent from her bag. "Here's your new home while you're working on this. All your other supplies and the shrunken storage crates are in these bags. We'll come by every morning to check on you — first at the sink entrance, then at the main entrance here if you don't show up after a few minutes."

"Oh, you must be coming here," Dobby interrupted. "Winky and me be trying several times, but we can't be popping past big parsley-mouth doors."

Hermione snickered at the elf's word choice and Jasmine smiled when she responded, "That's fine, we'll come here to see if you need anything. If you manage to find another exit, come find either one of us and let us know, but only if we're alone." Both elves nodded vigorously, then immediately got to work.

* * *

 **Sunday, September 5, 1995. Afternoon.**

Hermione smiled as she waited for Professor McGonagall to pass the sugar. Although neither she nor Jasmine had spoken about it aloud, both witches had sorely missed these get-togethers and had been looking forward to this for weeks. They didn't realize it, but their Transfiguration professor felt the same way.

"So," Minerva started out, "according to Miss Granger's letters, you two have had an interesting summer." Jasmine snorted at that understatement, and the two filled in the older Gryffindor about the things Hermione hadn't included in her letters, and once more recounted the terrible events of the night they were attacked.

After all of that had been covered, Minerva asked, "Did anything else interesting happen? Here at Hogwarts it was fairly boring most of the time."

Jasmine and Hermione exchanged a meaningful look, then said in unison, "Jasmine Potter and Hermione Granger share a soul bond." They timed it for just when Minerva was taking a sip of tea, with predictable results. This caused the girls to giggle — mission accomplished.

"I suppose you figured out that I already knew, or at least suspected?" Minerva asked as she used her napkin to clean up the mess.

Jasmine nodded. "We also know why you couldn't say anything. That doesn't mean we aren't annoyed that so many people other than us seemed to have been aware of it — and it doesn't mean that we aren't going to get a few of them back for that, too."

Minerva scowled at them, though without any genuine anger. "Just so long as it's a one-time thing," she said. When the other two agreed, her expression softened as she continued, "So, now you know. How do you feel about it?"

Jasmine and Hermione reached out to grasp each other's hands. "It was pretty overwhelming at first," Hermione admitted. "We spent the better part of a day or two just sitting and talking about it."

"We're happy, though," Jasmine said with a smile. "It makes us feel even better about our relationship than we already did."

"Why is it that you were able to guess that we were developing a soul bond?" Hermione asked. "Have you ever known any other soul-bonded couples?"

Minerva pursed her lips, and an expression of sorrow seemed to flash across her face before she quickly said, "No, I have never known anyone who was soul-bonded. Unfortunately." She took a deep breath. "I happen to have read a great deal about various sorts of bonds, however, and while there isn't much information written down about soul bonds, there is enough to notice when one is occurring… if you are perceptive enough."

Jasmine and Hermione suspected that there was more to the story than their professor was letting on, but before either could think of a way to ask, Minerva changed the subject.

The atmosphere of their tea break was far less light and relaxed after that, and the two younger witches, sensing that their professor's mood had taken a turn for the worse, bid her an early goodbye with the excuse that they still had some homework to complete before classes the next day. There was more that they'd intended to tell her, but that would have to wait for next week.

* * *

 **Sunday, September 5, 1995. Evening.**

Jasmine, Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Ginny were all sitting around a table finishing their homework when they were interrupted by a tapping at a nearby window. Another Gryffindor opened it, letting in an owl that made straight for Ron. Surprised to be getting anything at night, he carefully took the letter from its leg. "Hey, this is Percy's handwriting," he said as the owl flew back out the still-open window.

"Percy?" Hermione asked. "I thought you said he had a huge argument with your parents and basically walked out over the summer?"

"He did," Ginny said. "Why is he writing to you?"

"Dunno," Ron answered with a shrug as he opened the envelope and began reading. It was a long letter — two full pieces of parchment, in fact, — and Ron just kept getting redder and redder as he went. Finally he exclaimed, "That git!" as his fist hit the table. "I can't believe him!"

Ginny grabbed the letter out of Ron's hands before he could tear it up and started summarizing for the others. "Let's see," she said. "He mentions talking to the Minister, which is his way of boasting about how highly placed his new friends are. Apparently the Minister knew that Ron had been made a prefect." The girls gave each other significant looks — clearly Fudge had some source of information about what went on in the castle.

"He says he's proud that Ron is a prefect and encourages him to keep up with following all the rules and being as big of a brown-noser as Percy himself was," Ginny continued, eliciting snickers from all who were listening, which now included the twins, who had come over to see what Ron was complaining about. "Next, he warns Ron to stop associating with both Jasmine and Hermione because they're dangerous and violent — something that he claims was proven at their trial this summer and which would have put them in prison if they hadn't gotten off on a technicality."

Hermione just gaped in shock, but Jasmine growled, "So, defending yourself against soul-sucking dementors and homicidal bigots is a mere 'technicality' in Percy's mind? Wait until I get my hands on him. I'll take a 'technicality' and shove it so far up his—"

"What's more," Ginny interrupted, "he says that things will be changing at Hogwarts — that Dumbledore may not be in charge for much longer. There will be more information in the _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow, which Ron should read carefully, and if he has anything to report — any violent or suspicious behavior on the part of Dumbledore or any of his supporters, especially Jasmine and Hermione — he just needs to speak to the right person… and that person will apparently be obvious after tomorrow, too."

Her voice positively dripped with scorn as the letter reached its conclusion: "He promises that he will accept the apologies of our parents and the rest of the family as soon as they 'see the light,' blah, blah, blah… and admit that they made a mistake in hanging around with criminals like Dumbledore, Jasmine, and Hermione…?!"

"Gah!" Ginny cried out as she slammed the parchment down on the table. "That git! That… that… oh, I'll hex him six ways from Sunday when I see him next!"

The twins shook their heads sadly. "How could any Weasley turn out like that?" one twin said.

"Didn't we drop him on his head a bunch of times when he was a baby?" the other asked.

"Nah, that was Ronnikins," the first answered.

"Maybe he was secretly adopted?" the second twin suggested.

Both nodded and said in unison, "That seems much more likely."

Ginny made to tear up the letter, but Jasmine put her hands over Ginny's and said, "Why don't I take this to Professor McGonagall? She might know what's coming, but if not, she deserves to be warned."

"No, I'll do it," Hermione said. "As a prefect, I'm allowed out after curfew if I have a good reason. And this reason," she added with a significant look at Jasmine as she gathered up the letter, "is better than most."


	16. The Inquisition

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have been reviewing, following, and favoriting this story. I'm happy that so many are enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **A/N 2** : With two exceptions, I'm using the educational decrees that appeared in the book and in the movie, though often with slightly different wording just so I'm not mindlessly copying. The first exception is a change in numbering due to two different decrees (one in the book, one in the movie) having the same number. The second exception is the final decree in chapter 48 — that's my own creation and is, coincidentally, my favorite.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Insidious Inquisitor" by Yunaine. When Umbridge doses Harry with Veritaserum, everything changes... because Umbridge isn't the evil witch we all thought her to be.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 16 - The Inquisition**

 **Monday, September 6, 1995, Morning.**

It was obvious what Percy Weasley had wanted Ron to see in the _Daily Prophet_ that morning, since the massive headline took up the entire top half of the front page. What exactly it meant, though, was a bit harder for the Gryffindor students to figure out.

 **MINISTRY TO REFORM HOGWARTS, APPOINTS DOLORES UMBRIDGE AS CHIEF INQUISITOR**

"What's a Chief Inquisitor, and who's Dolores Umbridge?" Ron asked.

"Umbridge was one of the people who sat in on our trial," Hermione answered. "Remember the witch in pink that I told you about? She was really nasty, and anything she's involved in can't be good for us."

"Or anyone else," Jasmine added.

"I remember my family talking about zis woman," Gabrielle said. "She is quite ze bigot. She hates everything and everyone she does not zink is fully human."

Luna pulled the newspaper away from Ron and began reading it aloud so all of them could hear. "Late last night, the Ministry of Magic issued Educational Decree #23, creating the post of Chief Inquisitor for Wizarding Britain's educational system. Dolores Umbridge, the lovely and vivacious Chief Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic, was immediately named to the post, which she will begin filling today."

"Late night decrees?" Hermione asked. "That doesn't sound ominous, does it?"

"According to Cornelius Fudge, our stalwart Minister for Magic," Luna continued, "this is just the latest move in the Ministry's efforts to exercise greater control over the nation's education generally and a failing Hogwarts specifically. 'Standards at Hogwarts have dropped to abysmal levels,' Minister Fudge told reporters. 'I've had numerous parents all around Britain complain to my office, and once I investigated, I was horrified at what I discovered. Some problems were only brought to light last year during the Triwizard Tournament when the champions complained publicly about how the school was being run.' This newspaper has repeatedly tried to investigate the many allegations that were made in the wake of the second task last year, but without any luck."

Hermione groaned. "I can't believe that our telling people about how many problems have existed in this school is now being used as an excuse by the Ministry to come in here!" When she looked over at the Hufflepuff table, she could see that Cedric Diggory looked just as bad as she felt — and possibly worse, since he was the one who had made most of the accusations the article spoke of.

"Don't blame yourself, Hermione," Neville said firmly. "You two brought attention to genuine problems in this school, and you can't control who uses that information against the Headmaster. Or **how** they use it. Ultimately, it's his fault for allowing the problems to fester." Hermione nodded, but sagged a little in her seat, still unhappy.

Luna resumed her recitation. "Newly-appointed Chief Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge told reporters that she will make a careful inspection of Hogwarts, keeping what is still valuable while removing that which no longer serves the interests of a proper British magical education. 'Everyone and everything will be carefully evaluated,' she told reporters. 'Every teacher, every lesson plan, every staff member, and every policy. Nothing will be ignored; everything will be inspected. Including the students, too, of course. We don't want anyone's children to be put at risk by violent rulebreakers.' When asked if Headmaster Albus Dumbledore would also be subjected to evaluation, Chief Inquisitor Umbridge smiled prettily and assured us that he would be getting the most rigorous inspection possible."

"After all he's done, I hate that I'm actually feeling sorry for Dumbledore," Neville said.

"Despite all he's done," Jasmine pointed out, "he's not the worst we could be dealing with." Hermione shivered slightly as she remembered her conversation with Professor McGonagall about house elves.

"Say, Luna?" Jasmine said. "The next issue of _The_ _Quibbler_ is formatted and ready to go, right? No way to add anything new?"

Luna shook her head. "No, it's probably in the middle of printing now. Why?"

Jasmine gestured to the paper she was reading. "I was thinking that this story is probably one that deserves an alternative perspective — one not from the Ministry, that is."

"It's too soon to say much," Hermione pointed out. "But depending on what happens, we may be in a perfect position to report on what the Ministry is doing."

Luna looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "I'll write to Daddy and let him know. If he agrees, he'll reserve some space in the October issue. There should still be some room alongside what we're already writing, though I know he's eagerly awaiting a field report about a possible crumplehorn snorkack sighting in Borneo."

She then returned her attention to the _Daily Prophet_ and went on: "As readers of this newspaper know, the aged Albus Dumbledore was relieved of his offices of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the ICW this past summer. Many witches and wizards are wondering if perhaps he's gotten too old to handle so much responsibility, including administering the education of our young people. 'Albus Dumbledore was once a great wizard,' Percy Weatherby, the devilishly handsome Junior Assistant to the Minister, told us in a private interview, 'but his time is long past. Hogwarts needs to be brought in step with the Ministry and thus needs a Headmaster whose thinking and policies are in line with those of the Minister. Chief Inquisitor Umbridge will be able to determine if Dumbledore is such a person, or if we need to get rid of the old in order to make room for the new.' Not everyone is quite so enthusiastic about what the Minister is doing, but the Office of the Minister of Magic has shown us secret evidence that all of those criticizing his new policies have links to dangerous, subversive organizations like werewolf sympathizers."

"That git!" Ron said. "And I thought he couldn't get any worse after that letter last night, but this..."

"This is appalling, is what it is!" Hermione exclaimed. "There's no real justification for anything in that article — it's a pack of lies! How can they print such garbage?"

Before anyone could answer her, the doors to the Great Hall thudded open as a large contingent of official-looking witches and wizards strode in, heading for the staff table. "Headmaster Dumbledore," came a simpering voice from within the crowd. "I am the Chief Inquisitor. Here is my authorization to move into the castle and begin inspecting the education, facilities, and policies in this school." A hand attached to a pink-clad arm reached up and out of the crowd, placing a piece of parchment on the table in front of Dumbledore.

The Headmaster looked down at the parchment as if it were a five-day dead rat that someone had just dropped onto his breakfast. He read it, reluctantly, but didn't bother to pick it up. He simply extended a single finger and pushed it back towards the woman who had been speaking. "Professor McGonagall," he said to his deputy sitting next to him, "please organize one of the castle's rooms for Madam Umbridge."

"It's Chief Inquisitor Umbridge now, if you please," the simpering voice announced.

"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore said absently, not even pretending to be impressed. "Why don't we go to my office to... discuss your duties."

"I think that would be an excellent idea," she responded. The crowd of Ministry employees parted so she could walk to the side entrance, and all the students got their first look at the woman: short, squat, and pink. "She reminds me of a female Trevor," was the first thing Neville said, eliciting several snorts of amusement from around the Gryffindor table.

"Except without his fashion sense," Ginny put in.

"And this started out like it was going to be a pretty decent year," Jasmine complained.

* * *

"I've heard her name mentioned a few times," Daphne was saying quietly at the Slytherin table, "but I don't really know anything about her. Do either of you?" Both of her friends shook their heads. "We'll have to write home to see what our parents know. Thank Merlin she isn't going to be teaching here — that would be a nightmare!"

"What about our housemates?" Tracey asked. "Some of them might know something useful."

"Maybe, but after our confrontation with Malfoy at the end of last term, some of them might be wary of us," Daphne responded.

"Actually, that would be worth knowing," offered Blaise. "The ones most likely to avoid us are the ones who know that You-Know-Who is back and don't want to anger him by being too close to the wrong people. Conversely, anyone trying to suck up to us is almost certainly spying. The rest probably don't have close contacts to You-Know-Who's followers and so are likely alright."

Tracey eyed him with new appreciation. "That's really insightful."

Blaise shrugged. "It won't be true in every case — we still have to be cautious. But it's a good starting place."

"I agree," Daphne said. "First we write home, then we start making discreet inquiries around Slytherin."

"That's in addition to keeping an eye on Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle," Tracey reminded the others.

"You haven't been able to get anything out of Pansy, have you?" Blaise asked.

Tracey shook her head. "She's even more closed off now than she was at the end of last term. She's not hostile anymore, just scared. Too scared to be helpful right now."

"Don't pressure her," Blaise suggested, "but make sure she knows that you're available to talk. She might open up eventually — especially if she doesn't have anywhere else to turn."

* * *

 **Monday, September 6, 1995, Evening.**

"Cornelius! Cornelius!" Umbridge called. She'd had to switch rooms three times before she was finally given one with a working floo connection. It had kept her busy the entire day, and she was positive that that had been the point. Or maybe it had been simply to annoy her. Either way, they had succeeded, but she knew she'd have her revenge — and sooner rather than later.

First, though, she desperately needed to speak to Cornelius.

"Cornelius!" she called through the floo once more.

"What is it?" came a querulous response at last. "Dolores? Is that you?"

"Yes, Cornelius, it's me," Umbridge responded. "I need to talk to you."

"What's the matter?" Fudge asked as he strode around his desk so he could face his fireplace. "You only just got there this morning. Why are you bothering me already?"

Umbridge hesitated briefly at his tone of voice, but she decided it must just be the result of the distortion created by old floo connections. "I found out who Dumbledore hired as the Defense professor, Cornelius. You wouldn't believe it, but she isn't even human! She's just a creature — and a French creature, too!"

"Oh, my," Fudge replied, perking up. "I had heard some rumors, but I didn't... I mean, I couldn't believe that even Dumbledore... well, no matter." He walked back to his desk and started flipping through some parchment. "If it's just some creature, there are ways to get rid of her."

Umbridge smiled broadly, once more looking forward to taking over the Defense position. _I'll make sure that creature is soundly punished for usurping something that should have gone to a pureblood_ , she mused. _I wonder if there are any equipped dungeons here in the castle that I can use? Or maybe the Department of Mysteries can use her for some experiments?_

"What's the creature's name?" Fudge asked, interrupting Umbridge's happy thoughts.

"Uh, it's Delacour," Umbridge responded, "Fleur Delacour."

Even through the haze of the floo connection, she could see the Minister for Magic pale. "D-d-delacour?" He asked. "A veela? From France?"

"Yes, that's her," Umbridge answered. "Surely you don't know her?"

Fudge slumped back in his seat and shoved the parchment he'd been looking at off his desk. "Not personally, no, but I know the name and family." He then turned to face the fireplace and continued with a shout, "And so should you, you stupid witch!"

Umbridge was dumbfounded at his reaction. "What do you mean? Why should I know this creature's family?"

Fudge clutched at his head in exasperation. "Don't you remember that delegation from the continent that came here in the spring? That French family that was so angry with Dumbledore?"

"Well," Umbridge answered slowly, "I seem to remember that the family that brought the complaints against Dumbledore was French. That's where we started being able to make our case against him, but honestly, I never paid much attention beyond that. They were only French, after all — who can keep all those cheese-eating squibs straight?"

Fudge rolled his eyes heavenward. "Well, the family in question happens to be the Delacours. Yes, they are veela, and as it turns out, they're well connected with the French magical government. So well connected, in fact, that in response to the youngest daughter being used in the second task of that blasted tournament, we had to deal with angry representatives from not only France, but also Spain, Germany, Italy, Greece, and several other countries! For a while there, I was worried that we'd be embargoed by the entire European continent over that incident!"

"But... but..." Umbridge stammered.

"You will not touch her!" Fudge declared. "If she violates the law or the school rules for staff, then maybe you can do something — but it would have to be a clear violation of a serious rule, otherwise we won't be able to justify taking harsh actions."

Umbridge barely suppressed a whimper, seeing her newly-resurrected dreams of becoming Defense professor shatter once more before her eyes.

"Now I have to go," Fudge said curtly. "I have an appalling amount of work that I have to finish before I can go home tonight." And with that, the floo connection was abruptly closed.

Umbridge rose from her kneeling position and walked to the other side of the tiny room, where she dropped heavily into a pink-cushioned chair. _This is only a setback_ , she consoled herself. _A temporary setback. I'll have to keep my distance from that creature for a few days, but once I've calmed down I'll start inspecting her and her classes. There's no way that she isn't violating all sorts of rules, probably seducing pureblood wizards in class because she can sense their power and is seeking their vital essence. She has to be stopped before she saps and corrupts all of our bodily fluids!_

* * *

 **Tuesday, September 7, 1995. Late Morning.**

The grim expression on Professor McGonagall's face as she sealed and silenced the classroom door told the two younger witches that they hadn't been held back after Transfiguration for a social chat. She motioned for them to sit up at the front as she herself sat behind her own desk. "I know that you, like all the other students, read that article in yesterday's paper," she began, "and you were also there yesterday morning at breakfast when that... when Chief Inquisitor Umbridge arrived." Jasmine and Hermione nodded.

"So you know that there are going to be problems here at Hogwarts," she continued. "I'm afraid that the situation is probably much worse than you know."

"How bad can it be?" Hermione asked.

McGonagall sighed. "It's bad enough that the Headmaster himself instructed me to warn you. That woman is making all sorts of claims on behalf of herself and her powers, some of which are surely just fantasy. But... well, I wouldn't be surprised if the only reason that they are still fantasy is because she and the Minister haven't yet enacted their full agenda. The simple fact is, she's here to bring the school into line with what the Minister wants."

"And what Fudge wants is whatever serves his personal interests," Jasmine added.

"Too true," McGonagall responded, "and it looks like Fudge is working to give her whatever power she needs to pursue that goal. Right now it simply involves 'inspecting' the staff, but I expect that it will soon include the ability to fire and hire as well."

Both younger witches gasped at the implications. "That means everyone's job is at risk!" Hermione said.

"In theory, yes," McGonagall said, "but in practice most probably don't have to worry — at least, not right away. It all comes down to what the Ministry regards as most important. Binns, for example, is hardly a good teacher and so would unlikely pass any honest, objective inspection, but his constant focus on rebellions by evil, treacherous goblins will probably be deemed as an important contribution to wizarding education. So I expect he'll be fine."

"If being a bad teacher is less important than being politically useful," Hermione said, "won't the opposite be true as well? Won't being a good teacher be irrelevant if you're politically unreliable? Will **you** be safe?" The desperate worry in the brunette witch's voice was unmistakable.

"I don't expect to have trouble any time soon," McGonagall reassured her. "My record here will go quite a ways towards protecting me. There is also the fact that they'd be hard pressed to find someone to replace me, given how I have three important positions here. I think this may be the first time I've ever been happy to be overworked and stretched thin." This elicited sad smiles from her students.

"Regardless," she continued, "I didn't ask you to stay behind in order to talk about me or to gossip about the other staff. I wanted to talk about the two of you, because you are in much more danger than I or probably anyone else here."

"We figured that she'd try to find some way to make things difficult for us," Jasmine replied, "but what can she do?"

"Quite a lot, I'm afraid," McGonagall said soberly. "As Chief Inquisitor, she has the same power and authority as anyone on staff — which means she can take points and assign detentions. Her mandate includes the entire school, which means she'll be moving around. You may encounter her anywhere, at any time, rather than simply in specific classes. If she's planning on targeting the two of you — something which the Headmaster assures me is the case, based on comments she made in their private meeting — then you can assume that she'll learn your schedules and make a point of running into you whenever she can."

The girls looked at each other in growing alarm.

"And this is only the beginning," McGonagall continued grimly. "We can assume that she'll grab more and more power as time goes on — especially if she finds that her current power does not get her what she wants. Right now she cannot, for example, suspend or expel any students, but I have no doubt that she'd like to be able to do so because if she can expel either one of you before you sit for your OWLs..."

"Then the Ministry can snap our wands and bind our magic," Jasmine finished for her.

McGonagall nodded. "Since that appears to have been their goal for your trial, we have to assume that they will be trying to do the same thing again, just via different means."

"What can we do?" Hermione asked. "Can we... can we avoid her? Can we be protected from her?"

McGonagall shook her head in resignation. "I'm sorry, but the situation is quite precarious. If anyone on staff — even the Headmaster — makes too overt of a move to protect you, we expect that that will be used to justify yet another power grab which will allow her to do whatever she wanted in the first place, but with the added benefit of punishing whoever helped you. We'll act if things get too bad, but for now our efforts will be focused on finding a way of getting rid of her completely. In the meantime, you two need to keep your heads down and avoid any sort of confrontation with her. You must also avoid breaking any rules, just in case she is nearby. You don't want to be alone with her if you can help it."

Jasmine and Hermione exchanged a look, worry plainly evident on their faces. "Okay, Professor, we'll do our best," Jasmine finally said.

"See that you do," the older witch replied sternly. Taking that as a dismissal, the girls gathered up their things and left for lunch.

As soon as they were gone, Minerva's stern expression evaporated, only to be replaced by the very real fear she was feeling. _I know I need to protect them_ , she thought, _but if I act too soon, I risk being removed entirely; if I act too late... I don't even want to think about what that might mean._

* * *

 **Thursday, September 9, 1995, Late Morning.**

When Jasmine and Hermione reached their Potions classroom, they found the door shut and the other students all waiting outside — just as had always been the case when Snape taught, but quite unlike how Dumbledore handled things. "Does this mean what I think it means?" Jasmine quietly asked her friends.

Before any of them could answer, the door slammed open and Snape strode out, glaring at everyone. Jasmine immediately noticed how tired and gaunt he seemed, making his already unpleasant-looking face even worse. "What are you dunderheads waiting for?" he half-shouted. "Get inside and find your seats!"

None of the Gryffindors had any idea what to expect from Potions. The class had been educational and even a bit enjoyable when taught by Dumbledore, but now Snape was back and angrier than ever. Yet at the same time, Malfoy's absence could only be counted as an improvement, and the reactions of the Slytherins to Snape's behavior suggested that they were feeling cowed and uncertain as well. Might this be a net gain in the end?

Any meager hope for a class that wasn't too terrible was dashed when Chief Inquisitor Umbridge walked in during Snape's opening instructions. "Hem, hem," she announced herself in her sickly sweet voice. "Professor Snape? I'll be sitting in and evaluating this class. You don't mind, do you?" The Potions professor's narrowed eyes made it clear that he definitely **did** mind, but he knew as well as anyone that the question had been rhetorical.

Rather than dignify her query with an answer, however, he simply nodded at a chair in the corner and returned to his instructions, though he seemed to be a bit stiffer than before. No one missed the sound of a quill scratching on parchment coming from the back corner, and everyone wondered what she could be writing already.

Jasmine and Hermione would have behaved cautiously even without McGonagall's warning, simply because Snape was so obviously on edge. Thus they worked as quietly and carefully as possible, hoping not to attract any negative attention. That wasn't hard for Hermione, who always did well in Potions, but for Jasmine, inevitably, it was a lost cause.

As usual, Snape stalked around the class while students prepared ingredients. There was far less sneering and verbal abuse, though, and he seemed to channel his normally abusive behavior into quiet mutterings.

Until he got to Jasmine's desk.

"What do you think you're doing, Potter?" he demanded. "You're supposed to use a julienne cut for the mountain troll brains and a brunoise cut for the swamp troll brains, not the other way around! What you've done will turn your Wit Enhancing Potion into useless sludge!"

Jasmine looked down at her prep station and blinked in confusion. _I was sure that I did the cutting correctly_ , she thought. _But even if I didn't, how would he be able to tell? The brains look exactly the same!_

"And what did you do to those old crow's feet?" he continued. "They're supposed to be finely shaved, not grated!"

Before Jasmine could protest, he picked something up from the floor at her feet. "And what's this?" he brought it up close to his face and sniffed deeply. "Steamed acromantula eyeball? That's not on the ingredients list for this potion. In fact, if it were added to this recipe it would cause the potion to explode in a cloud of toxic gas! Are you **trying** to get everyone in this room killed?"

Jasmine wanted to protest that she had no idea where the eyeball had come from — she'd never seen it before, honestly — but a noise from the back of the room interrupted her train of thought. "Hem, hem."

Snape stopped his ranting and cast a cold glare back at the pink-clad Chief Inquisitor. Without a word, he raised one questioning eyebrow.

"It sounds like Miss Potter is creating a danger in your class, Professor Snape," Umbridge said.

Snape sneered and finally deigned to speak to her. "No more than usual. While not quite as much of a menace as Longbottom and his regularly exploding cauldrons, she is one of the least capable students I've ever had the misfortune to teach. Combined with her predisposition to cause trouble and break the rules, it's always a chore to teach any class with her in it." Both girls were fuming by now and were only just holding back from trying to argue with him.

"Perhaps she needs to be removed for the safety of others," Umbridge responded. Jasmine and Hermione turned around to see a wide, pleased smile on the woman's face. Not only did it not make her look any better, but Jasmine felt that it only served to increase the similarities between her and a large, ugly toad.

"There's no need for that," Snape said quickly, apparently trying to backtrack from the vehemence of his earlier comments. "As a Potions Master, I have little difficulty in restraining her and ensuring everyone's safety."

"Oh?" Umbridge asked skeptically. "That's not what the records indicate. Just last term, in fact, you deducted points from Miss Potter for sabotaging another student's work — an act that caused horrific injuries to two fine, upstanding students of excellent breeding."

Snape scowled at the memory of that day. "That was... an exception," he said. "Normally, there are few accidents and even fewer injuries. The safety record of this class improved significantly once I took over, and I have maintained the highest standards."

"Be that as it may," Umbridge said, "It sounds like Miss Potter has failed to heed any of your warnings or instructions. I will have to make a notation about that. If you finally get tired of her and want her removed, though, you just need to let me know. The same goes for any of her violent, dangerous, and immoral friends, too." She was looking right at Hermione when she said this, and her meaning was unmistakable.

Snape sneered and resumed his stalking around the room, though he avoided even looking at Jasmine and Hermione again, never mind talking to them. Somehow Jasmine managed to produce a potion she thought might be good enough to get an A and sighed in relief as she packed up her stuff. Before she and Hermione could leave, though, they were waylaid by Umbridge.

"I know how dangerous the two of you are," she said in a sickly-sweet voice that still managed to be full of hatred and menace. "You're a threat to the Minister, which means you're a threat to the Ministry. In fact, you're a threat to our culture and entire way of life."

"That's... that's..." Hermione tried to protest, forgetting McGonagall's instructions when faced with such blatant stupidity.

"That's the way things are in the wizarding world," Umbridge interrupted her. "You'd know that if you weren't a mudblood who's trying to corrupt our society. Our existence depends on preserving the Statute of Secrecy, a wall that's weakened every time we allow one of your kind into our world. We cannot hope to preserve the Statute of Secrecy, though, if we do not have a strong, powerful Ministry that is trusted by the people. And for that, we need a strong, powerful Minister. Your lies and violent behavior threaten all of that — they threaten everything we depend upon."

Umbridge leaned in close and said softly, "That's why you are both so dangerous, and that's why I'm going to see you removed from wizarding Britain. One way or another." She straightened up and smiled again before saying, "Have a **lovely** day, then."

Jasmine just stared at her retreating back. "Can a witch still be a Dark Lady if she wears pink?" she wondered aloud.

* * *

 **Thursday, September 9, 1995, Late Night.**

Jasmine and Hermione had already been waiting for half an hour when Sirius' head finally appeared in the fireplace of the Gryffindor common room. "Sirius!" Jasmine whispered. "Where have you been! Your letter yesterday said that you'd floo-call us at midnight! We were getting so worried!"

"Sorry," Sirius replied, "but there was an unexpected Order meeting tonight and it ran late."

"As long as you're alright," Jasmine said. "So what's going on? Why did you need to talk to us?"

"I wanted to give you a warning about Umbridge," Sirius said. "A couple of the Black family portraits have heard some disturbing things from their frames in the Ministry. Unfortunately we don't have anyone in the Minister's own offices, but there have been a few revealing conversations that the portraits were able to overhear. The stated purpose of inspecting Hogwarts is true, but it's not the only reason she's there. "

"One of her reasons for being here is to find a way to expel us from Hogwarts and thus from wizarding Britain entirely," Hermione said flatly.

"Oh," Sirius responded, seeming a little deflated that his big news wasn't actually news at all. "I guess you already figured that out?"

"Professor McGonagall warned us on Tuesday that that was likely the case," Jasmine answered. "But the Pink Toad Lady basically admitted it to our faces earlier today. According to her, threatening the popularity of the Minister threatens the stability of the Ministry, which threatens the Statute of Secrecy and all of wizarding society."

"Yeah," Sirius said with a sigh, "that matches up with what the portraits were able to tell me. She's a real piece of work, apparently. Dangerous, too. You need to be careful around her. I doubt that there's much she wouldn't do in order to eliminate you two."

Hermione frowned. "If she's that ruthless and amoral, do you think she might have had something to do with the dementors coming after Jasmine? We suspect someone at the Ministry, since Voldemort hadn't gotten them to defect yet at the time."

"Good point," Sirius agreed. "I'll see what I can do to find any evidence that points in that direction."

Jasmine shivered at the idea that a woman like Umbridge would hate her enough to actively want her dead — or soulless, which was arguably much worse. "As if it weren't bad enough that I already have Voldemort after me."

"Don't worry," Sirius said, "I'll do everything I can to help. So will the Black portraits — you should have seen how my mother ranted and raved once we found out what Umbridge was up to. As angry as she was at Skeeter last term, that's nothing compared to how furious she is now at Umbridge. I swear, I thought I saw her portrait warp slightly as if she were trying to step out of it, she wanted to curse that vile woman so badly." Hermione frowned at this and remembered that she'd never gotten around to researching magical portraits as she had intended to.

"Is the escape plan you made for us before the trial still viable?" Jasmine asked. "Given what's happening here, we may still need it."

"Yep, it's still viable, and we can activate it with as little as two hours' notice," Sirius assured her.

"Good," Jasmine said. "I hope we never have to use it, but knowing that it's there makes me feel better."

"Well, you two should get to bed, it's late," Sirius finally said. "I'm glad for the chance to talk to you, but your studies this year are more important than ever."

After saying their goodbyes, the two witches made their way up to their dorm, both lost in thought, though for different reasons.

* * *

 **Friday, September 10, 1995, Morning.**

Amelia Bones looked grimly across her desk at Moira O'Connor and Rufus Scrimgeour. All three had been struggling for weeks to come up with some way to get certain investigations past the Minister's office, including especially the long-delayed trial for Sirius Black, but they'd yet to have much luck. Every time they thought they were making progress, other, more pressing matters interfered, or else the Minister himself managed to throw a spanner into their efforts.

Now, though, Minister Fudge's biggest supporter and attack dog was in Hogwarts and would remain there for the foreseeable future.

"It doesn't solve our problems," O'Connor said, agreeing with Bones' assessment, "but it's a huge step in the right direction. There are others here in the Ministry who will continue trying to block us, but everything we've managed to uncover points to her as the driving force behind most of it. Even Fudge probably doesn't know how much she's done."

"I'd say that's pretty certain," Scrimgeour interjected. "While Fudge and his other supporters will continue trying to block us, they won't be nearly as effective." He paused for a moment, then added, "Well, except for one area: getting an actual trial held."

Bones nodded. "That's where the Minister still has a lot of direct, personal power. He can block a trial in several ways, some of which could be implemented at the last minute, just when Black is helpless and in Ministry custody." Her expression grew bleak. "I think we all know that probably wouldn't turn out well for him."

"So we need to get the Minister out of the Ministry for a while," suggested O'Connor.

"Easier said than done," Bones replied. "He's never been a workaholic, but he's started working long hours this week. He's probably trying to make up for some of the work that he never realized Umbridge did for him."

"Then we'll just have to keep an eye out for good opportunities," Scrimgeour said. "Sooner or later, something will happen that will draw him out — something too tempting for him to resist."

Bones nodded again, thinking about what in all of magical Britain might interest Fudge enough to get him out of the Ministry for at least a day.

* * *

 **Friday, September 10, 1995. Late Morning.**

Like the previous Friday, Jasmine and Hermione were held back after Defense class, but this time Fleur had different reasons. "Before zis class," she explained after silencing and sealing the door, "I was visited by a house elf who asked me to get you two alone."

Jasmine's eyes widened. "Dobby?" she called out. With a pop, Dobby appeared in front of the two Gryffindor witches. "Oh, Dobby!" Jasmine said as she knelt down to hug him. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Dobby said, ears flapping. "Winky and Dobby be finding second passage, but we can only be going out, not back in. So Winky still be in nasty Chamber, waiting for Dobby."

"Where is the exit?" Hermione asked.

"Door be down in the dungeon," Dobby said. "Come, Dobby show!" Fleur was curious about what was going on, but more importantly, as a member of staff she could provide official cover in case they were seen by the wrong people. Fortunately, the fact that it was lunch time meant that the corridors were mostly empty as they made their way down, deeper into the bowels of the castle, where Dobby led them to a dark alcove in a little-used corridor.

Hermione and Fleur provided light while Jasmine searched the stones until she came across a small carving of a snake. By focusing on it, she said _"Open"_ in parseltongue, which caused the entire back wall of the alcove to shift backwards a few feet, then sideways, revealing a dark stairwell.

"Winky!" Hermione called out, and her house elf popped in front of them.

"Dobby, youse be returning with Missy Jazzy and Missy Hermy!" she said happily.

"Well, it looks like you can leave this way without my help, but you'll still need me to get down there," Jasmine said, only slightly disappointed. At least no one who knew about this passage would be trapped down there unnecessarily, and fetching someone from here was easier than going down through the other tunnel.

"How's it going with the project?" Hermione asked.

"Most of the big snakey be harvested, Missy Hermy," Winky answered.

"How much of it was still salvageable?" Jasmine asked.

"Skin, bones, teeth, and venom all still be mostly good," Dobby answered. "But rest of big snakey be in bad shape. We not be getting much from its innards."

"Do you need anything to continue?" Hermione asked. When both elves insisted that they were fine and had only wanted to let their mistresses know about the second passage they'd discovered, the witches gave the elves another hug and let them return to the Chamber to continue working — they estimated they'd need at least another week before they'd be finished.

"What will you do with it once it is harvested?" Fleur asked.

"We hadn't decided," Hermione started to say, but she was quickly interrupted by Jasmine.

"Actually, I was thinking that it — either the actual harvested parts or the money from selling them — could be used to further our, uh, larger project." When the other two witches gave her confused looks, Jasmine clarified, "You know, the one we learned about in August. The Predire project." Comprehension dawned, and Fleur promised to write to her family to find out if there were any particularly good uses for the basilisk parts they were likely to have available.

* * *

 **Friday, September 10, 1995, Late Night.**

Albus Dumbledore was once again up late finishing some parchment work when an unfamiliar owl entered his office. Suspicious at getting such a late and unexpected letter, he cast several detection charms before he accepted it and allowed the owl to fly away. His suspicion turned to surprise and curiosity when he saw who the letter was from and what she wanted. Not seeing any reason to object, he cast the requisite spells on his fireplace, brought two glasses and his current bottle of aged firewhiskey to the small table at the side of his office, then sat and waited.

It was only fifteen minutes later when the fireplace flared green and Amelia Bones stepped into the headmaster's office. "Amelia," Dumbledore said as he stood to greet her. "Welcome to Hogwarts. Please, have a seat." He motioned her to take a seat at the table, then poured both of them a measure of firewhiskey.

"Thank you for opening your floo to me," Bones said without picking up the glass.

"Think nothing of it," he responded, "I am, however, quite curious about what would bring you to my office so late — and from your home floo connection, too, rather than from your Ministry office."

"It's Fudge and his obstructionism," Bones explained. "As you know, he's been preventing the DMLE from adequately pursuing investigations into anything connected with Miss Potter or what happened to her in the graveyard. And that hasn't changed in the past month."

Dumbledore nodded. "I had hoped that without Lucius there to whisper poison into his ears, he'd be more amenable to seeing reason. Alas, that has not come to pass. I am sorry that I was unable to help you acquire more funding for your efforts. Or even to sway very many others to see the importance of the work you've been doing."

"That's quite alright, I know you tried," Bones responded. "Unfortunately, it seems that Fudge has simply replaced one master with another. I've gotten reports that Thaddeus Nott has been making frequent visits to the Minister's offices."

"Ah," Dumbledore said, "that might explain a lot." He hid a troubled frown, wondering why Severus hadn't brought him any information about what Nott was doing with the Minister.

"I believe that the key to breaking Fudge's stranglehold is Sirius Black," Bones said. "If we can get Black a trial, then Fudge's efforts at misdirection will collapse because Black has been his primary means of distraction. This will allow us to point official investigations where they need to go instead of wasting time hunting an innocent man. What's more, once people learn that Black was innocent all along — of everything, not just the most recent allegations — then Fudge's credibility will take a significant hit. That will hurt his political capital, giving the DMLE even more room to maneuver. Finally, if Black is healthy enough to take his family's seat on the Wizengamot, I suspect he'd be only too happy to help us if it meant working against Fudge."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully and took a small sip of firewhiskey — just enough to produce a little smoke, but not enough to cause him to belch fire. "That sounds like a reasonable assessment of the situation. But how do you propose to hold a trial for Sirius? You've been trying since the end of last term, if I'm not mistaken."

"True," Bones admitted, "but circumstances have potentially changed in our favor — specifically, Umbridge being assigned to do Fudge's bidding here at Hogwarts. I know that she must be an annoyance, but so long as she's causing you trouble here, she's not causing me trouble at the Ministry. Her absence means that a lot of the obstacles I'd normally run into will be significantly weaker."

Dumbledore smiled ruefully. "Our loss is your gain, I suppose. Alright, that's one step, but it's obviously not enough, otherwise you wouldn't be here. What else do you need?"

"Fudge himself is the other major obstacle," Bones answered. "As Minister, he has a lot of discretion when it comes to everything surrounding a trial. If you can remove him, I can organize a trial on pretty short notice — a couple of hours, in fact, if I'm lucky."

"Remove?" Dumbledore asked, and even his implacable facade of calm was shaken. "Amelia, surely you can't—"

"No! No, Merlin, not that!" Bones quickly said. "I simply want him out of the Ministry for a while — a day, at least, in order to organize and hold a trial. Two days would be even better because it might allow us to sneak through a few other things."

Dumbledore relaxed, feeling relieved that he wasn't being asked to assassinate a head of state. "I can see where that would help. I'm not sure, though, why you think I can accomplish this for you."

"I'm not sure either, but you're my best bet," Bones admitted. "With Umbridge gone, he's spending more and more hours in the Ministry, probably trying to do the work she took care of. We need something tempting to get him out of his office for any length of time, and I think Hogwarts is it — him sending Umbridge here demonstrates how much importance he places on the school."

"Ah," Dumbledore replied. "So you're hoping that something can be engineered, or some event can be tweaked, to give Cornelius a reason to want to come out here."

"Exactly," Bones said. "I suspect that it would be best if the request came from Umbridge. He obviously trusts her, so if she's calling for him, I think he'll come running. Then, once you have him, find ways to keep him here for as long as possible."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'll admit that at the moment I can't think of anything sufficiently compelling to lure him in, but I promise I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," Bones said as she finally picked up the glass of firewhiskey and took a sip. "I appreciate your help."

"You are familiar with the use of a patronus for sending messages, I trust?" Dumbledore said. When Bones nodded, he continued, "If I am able to arrange events to help you, I'll send you my phoenix patronus with the message 'flame.' Once he shows up, I'll send another patronus with the message 'moth.' If he insists on leaving and I can't hold him anymore, I'll send the message 'flight.' All that should be sufficiently obscure if anyone is near you."

Bones smiled at that idea. "Excellent, I think that will work perfectly." Once she finished her firewhiskey she stood to leave. Before going through the floo, she turned and said to the headmaster, "I know that Black wasn't the one who organized the Azkaban breakout, but I'm concerned about who it was. You know, don't you?" Dumbledore nodded. "Was it... him? You-Know-Who?"

"Yes," he said regretfully. "I'm afraid it was."

"Damn," she said as she threw the floo powder into the fireplace. "One more reason we need to get rid of Fudge as soon as possible." With a flash of green flames, she was gone.

"Oh, the situation is even worse than you realize," he said to an empty room as he finished his drink.


	17. Somebody's Watching Me

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "The Strange Disappearance of SallyAnne Perks" by Paimpont. Do you remember Sally-Anne, sorted into Hufflepuff in Harry's first year? Harry and Hermione remember her, but no one else seems to, so they decide to find out what happened to the missing witch.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 17 - Somebody's Watching Me**

 **Saturday, September 11, 1995, Morning.**

It was a rather tired Albus Dumbledore who looked around the table as everyone waited for the staff meeting to begin. Usually he was much more awake for these meetings, especially the first of the term, but lately his workload had gotten significantly worse and he was chronically short on sleep.

Rather than waste time, he quickly got things started by making the necessary announcements and officially introducing Fleur Delacour as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. She'd already met most of the staff informally, but he felt that formal introductions at the first staff meeting were important to help establish a new professor's authority in the castle.

Next he went around asking everyone if they had any concerns they wanted to raise. Aside from a few minor issues, the only real concern was the one they all had in common: Chief Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge.

"She is a menace," Snape said flatly, surprising everyone because he rarely spoke out during staff meetings unless it was to complain about Jasmine Potter or the Weasley twins. "It's absurd that we have to put up with her simpering and scratching whenever the mood strikes her to evaluate one of our classes."

"I'm sorry to say that I must bear some of the blame for her being here," Dumbledore confessed. "Some of my actions over the years have given the Ministry enough excuse to insert her into our lives. That said, the Ministry would have been searching for any excuse regardless, so even if every single decision I'd ever made had been completely beyond reproach, they probably would have found **something** they could twist to suit their purposes."

He looked around at all the faces — faces of colleagues who trusted him to lead the school, to support them in their jobs, and to protect them from the storms that passed by outside the castle walls.

"I tell you this not simply to confess my own failings," he continued, "but to make sure you understand that she is here pursuing an agenda, and she will stay until that agenda is completed. Nothing you say or do — or don't do — will matter: the Ministry is intent on getting its way in the end. So I recommend that you do your best to keep your heads down and avoid attracting... that woman's attention. The longer she goes without noticing you, the better off you'll be."

Dumbledore paused for a few moments to let that bad news sink in. "Aside from that, I recommend that you do what you can to protect your students because they are our primary responsibility. Unfortunately, I must also advise caution in this: if you push too much, too soon, you risk being slapped down so hard that both you and those you want to protect will probably end up far worse off. So pick your battles, and if you have any concerns, please bring them immediately to either Minerva or myself. If necessary, one of us will step in and... take the heat, as the muggles apparently say."

"I recommend that all heads of house take their prefects aside and talk to them," McGonagall added. "We can't be everywhere, and the prefects are supposed to serve as an extension of our authority. They won't be able to step in and stop this individual from abusing her authority, but they can get a member of staff if they see anything questionable occurring."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement and noted that Sprout, Flitwick, and Snape were all doing the same. "That is an excellent suggestion, thank you. One last thing before we all return to our regular Saturday: please watch yourselves around Argus. He's spent quite a bit of time talking in hushed tones with... **her**. I do not know what they are discussing, but I think it would be prudent to leave him in the dark about what we have talked about here."

* * *

 **Saturday, September 11, 1995, Afternoon.**

Gabrielle barely noticed Hermione's bone-crushing squeeze of her hand because she was returning it just as strongly. Neither of them cared, though, because they were both too focused on the insane aerial maneuvers Jasmine was performing high above the Quidditch pitch. Gabrielle had heard stories about Jasmine's skills on a broom, but the stories didn't compare to seeing her in person.

"I'm going to kill her for trying that," Hermione hissed after watching Jasmine perform a Wronski Feint, pulling up so late that they could see her toes skim the low-cut grass.

"Not eef I get to 'er first," Gabrielle muttered, her accent growing thick in her anxiety.

Gabrielle wasn't surprised by Hermione's reaction — her best friend, lover, and soon-to-be soul-bonded partner was out there risking permanent injury or even death... and all for a silly game! It was Gabrielle's own, similarly strong reaction that had her slightly confused. She could feel an almost literal tugging on her chest every time Jasmine did something dangerous, and it was all she could do to not go out there and stop her.

Whenever asked, she'd always insisted that she was fine after going through an early and fast maturation, enduring all the rigorous training, and learning about the prophecy. The truth was, though, that she hadn't been entirely fine, and she knew it.

She'd kept quiet about it at first, because for the longest time she'd had no idea what the problem might be and so had no way to describe it. Her moment of revelation had come when she heard the others talking about the implications of their divided loyalties in the wake of the holiday rituals, and Fleur explaining how her own attitudes had shifted after the second task, causing her to feel uncertain and conflicted.

That was when Gabrielle realized that she had **never** felt uncertain. She had never felt conflicted. After emerging from the Black Lake, she had latched on to Jasmine, and soon thereafter the bond had tied the two of them together forever. She still didn't understand why she had been affected differently from her older sister. Perhaps it was because she was too young when the bond formed; perhaps it was something else.

This was what she was born to do, however, and she was at peace with her destiny, no matter where it might lead her. She still cared about her family and the veela community, but her loyalty was with Jasmine, and there was nothing she wouldn't do in order to protect the auburn-haired witch.

Sometimes the ferocity of that loyalty scared her a little, but she shoved that fear aside because she was sure Jasmine would need her loyalty to survive. She also knew that she and her sister, out of all of the witches in the world, had been chosen to provide that loyalty, just like Jasmine and Hermione had been singled out by the goddesses to be their vessel at Beltane, and that made her even more resolute in her dedication.

She knew it wasn't love that she felt for Jasmine — not like Hermione did. It was adoration. Jasmine Potter had been chosen by the goddesses to fulfill their will on earth, just as she herself had been chosen to be Jasmine's sword and shield. For Gabrielle Delacour, Jasmine Potter was as good as the Goddess incarnate, and Gabrielle would serve her with all the dedication, devotion, and loyalty she deserved, no matter what the cost.

She felt Hermione squeeze her arm and turn her head into her shoulder as Jasmine made another suicidal dive.

 _Just because I am loyal, though, doesn't mean I won't hex her into next week for scaring us like this!_

* * *

On Hermione's other side, Neville and Luna were also watching the Quidditch tryouts. Since they assumed Jasmine would once again be named Seeker, they focused on Ginny and Ron, who were trying out for Chaser and Keeper, respectively. Because the two Weasleys weren't prone to insane, suicidal acts while flying several hundred feet in the air, Luna and Neville were considerably more relaxed as they watched events play out high above them.

"When are you and Ginny going to become an official couple, Neville?" Luna asked at one point.

"Oh, uh, well..." he stammered as some of the old, uncertain Neville showed through.

"You do want to become a couple, don't you?" Luna asked.

"Yes!" Neville responded quickly. "I just, uh... well, I'm not sure how to go about it."

"Really? I thought it was just a matter of asking a question," Luna said serenely.

"Easier said than done," Neville muttered.

Luna's eyes refocused as she looked closely at him. "You're definitely suffering from wrackspurts. They're making you confused about something that should be obvious."

Neville blinked a few times at that, then exhaled heavily. "Maybe you're right. I'll have to think about it."

Luna shrugged as she turned back to the Quidditch tryouts.

Neville kept watching her, though, and after a few moments he prodded, "What about you and Ron? I've seen the way you look at him."

Luna's face darkened slightly as she shrugged again but didn't immediately answer. For a moment it seemed as though she wouldn't answer at all, but finally she sighed. "I don't know. I don't think he even knows if he'd want any sort of romantic relationship at this point. To be quite honest, Neville, I doubt that he's ready for one anyway."

Neville nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, he's not the most mature bloke in our dorm — and that's including Seamus."

Luna smiled thinly. "I think he has a lot of potential, but I'm not sure if or when he'll realize it. If he ever does, though, I'd like to be around."

"I think that's a good goal to have," Neville replied, and after that they both fell into a comfortable silence as they watched their friends. None of them noticed a short, pink-clad witch observing them from the shadows.

* * *

 **Sunday, September 12, 1995, Morning.**

Jasmine smiled as she watched everyone huffing and puffing from the dodging practice which Fleur had just put them all through. She and Hermione were tired too, but they'd had more training from the veela, so they'd been able to get through that morning's sessions a bit better than the others. The others couldn't help but notice and recognized it as proof of the value of their training. They were already better than they had been the week before, and the witches especially were improving dramatically.

"Alright, everyone," Hermione said, getting the others' attention. "We're stopping early for a couple of announcements. First, there are four bags for you over by the door. Like last time, there's one for each house, and they're filled with individual bags. These are the booklets that you all created during the summer. However, don't give these out just yet — we want to wait until after we hold the first mass DA meeting, where we can enforce some secrecy on them. We also need to find out how many firsties want the set of books everyone got last term."

"We don't want some of that information to get out to just anyone," Jasmine added. "The spells on eavesdropping, for example, should not fall into the wrong hands. Granted, others could research them, too, but let's not make it easy for them."

"Next is, I'm afraid, something just for the witches," Hermione said with an apologetic look at the boys. Neville and Blaise were by this point getting used to witches discussing things that didn't involve them, so they just rolled their eyes and left without further complaint.

"Ginny, Luna, this is going to be new to you, and we need you to promise not to say anything to anyone," Jasmine said once the witches were alone. "You don't **have** to participate, but you'll find that the others here will be eager to. Regardless, whether you do or not, this has to remain our secret." The excited looks on the faces of the others made it clear that Jasmine wasn't exaggerating.

When the two younger witches agreed, it was Fleur who spoke next. "Ze Autumnal Equinox falls on ze 22nd of zis month, and I am arranging for a holiday ritual to celebrate it. You are all, of course, invited to participate if you wish." A couple of the witches squeed in excitement, and Tracey started bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Ginny was clearly surprised, yet Luna, for some reason, appeared as unruffled as ever.

"You don't look surprised, Luna," Ginny said.

"I suspected that Jasmine and Hermione had started adopting some of the old ways," Luna replied placidly. "I'm curious, though, why Neville and Blaise were excluded," she said as she turned to Fleur. "Did you not think they would be interested?"

"Ze rituals we hold are veela in nature, and are thus limited to just ze witches," Fleur explained.

"Oh, that's interesting," Luna said, her already-wide eyes growing even wider. "I've never been to a veela ritual. or any sort of all-female ritual. I'd love to participate!"

"Have you taken part in magical rituals before?" Padma asked. Jasmine was surprised by the question, but then she realized that if anyone was going to ignore what the Ministry condemned, it would probably be the Lovegoods.

"A few, yes," Luna answered. "My family never entirely stopped following the old ways, but now that it's just Daddy and me, it's hard to do many of the rituals anymore. We try when we can, but it's just not the same. They are all much better when done as part of a larger community because that's what they are mostly intended for."

"Is it... is it dangerous?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, no," Daphne immediately answered. "We all participated in a Midsummer's Eve ritual near the end of last term, and it was incredible! I've never felt magic like I did then... I mean, it was almost like discovering magic for the first time!"

"Or seeing color for the first time," Susan added. "Even now, I feel like magic is easier for me. Casting new spells is easier, and most spells seem to be a little stronger."

"The one thing you need to be aware of," Hermione said, "is that these rituals apparently... well, they seem to speed up your physical development."

"Development?" Ginny asked, confused.

"Magical boo—" Tracey tried to say before Daphne gave her a stiff elbow in the side.

"Into a woman," Susan explained. "We've all gotten... curvier. Plus taller and stronger as well."

"No wonder you all look so good!" Ginny exclaimed as she gazed around at all the fit witches. "I thought that your looks and doing so well during these practice sessions was simply because you were older, not because you were... well, enhanced, I guess. Are you sure it will happen at this equinox ritual, too?"

"We cannot be absolutely sure," Fleur answered with a shrug, "but it is likely. You should not participate if zat would bother you."

"I think I'd be interested regardless, but if it'll help me in all those ways, I'm definitely doing it," Ginny announced.

"That sort of thing has never happened to me," Luna said with a frown. "I wonder if it's veela magic? Well, I don't care either way."

"Just be prepared to either use magic on your clothes or to buy new ones," Daphne informed them, "because if it does happen, your current clothing will start getting tight and uncomfortable in as little as a couple of weeks.

"Do not worry, I will help — I have lots of practice," Gabrielle whispered to Ginny when she saw the other witch's anxious expression. She was aware of the Weasley family's financial situation and so understood how this might create hardship for her.

"Zen it is all settled," Fleur said. "We will still need a plan to get out of and back into ze castle zat night, but I will tell you more when ze date approaches."

It was an extremely bubbly and excited group of witches that exited the Room of Requirement to get cleaned up before lunch that day.

* * *

 **Sunday, September 12, 1995, Afternoon.**

"Congratulations on making Seeker again, Miss Potter," Minerva said as she poured herself some tea. "Not that there was any doubt, of course." Jasmine beamed at the compliment. Even Hermione smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I was also pleased to see that both of the youngest Weasleys made it onto the team as well," she continued, "even if Miss Weasley is only a backup Chaser. That makes four Weasleys on the Gryffindor Quidditch team at once — the highest number ever, as far as I know."

"It will be interesting to see how they all get along when on an official team, instead of just playing casual games at the Burrow," Hermione said.

"The only real competition for Ron as Keeper was Cormac McLaggen, and he wasn't quite as good," Jasmine put in. "To be quite honest, he's more than a bit of a braggart, so I wasn't keen on having him join the team anyway."

"And he wasn't happy about that," Hermione muttered.

"Well, I fully expect to see the Inter-House Quidditch Cup on my shelf at the end of the year," their professor said briskly.

"Yes, ma'am!" Jasmine replied with a cheeky grin. Then she sobered. "So... we have a few things we need to tell you," she ventured a moment later. "Things we thought we'd get to last week, but didn't." At Minerva's questioning eyebrow, she continued, "In addition to all the other things that happened to us this summer, we were informed about a couple of matters that impact our future."

"Put simply," Hermione cut in, "we learned that we are the subjects of two prophecies." Minerva gasped and almost dropped her teacup. "Well, technically Jasmine's the subject of one, and we're both the subjects of the second," Hermione corrected herself, "but given the soul bond, it's hard to look at the first as only being about Jasmine."

Hermione then proceeded to explain everything in the order that it happened: Gabrielle's prophecy at Imbolc, the animated snake's comments, Fleur's revelation of the Great Prophecy this past summer, the training which Fleur and Gabrielle had undergone, and finally Dumbledore's revelation of the prophecy which had caused Voldemort to kill Jasmine's parents.

Throughout the entire explanation, Minerva grew more and more shocked. She didn't even touch her tea, she was so engrossed in what they were telling her, and she finally had to set the cup down.

"And that's not even everything," Jasmine said once Hermione was done. "Sirius has offered to adopt me. Officially."

Finally they had news Minerva could smile about. "That's wonderful! You intend to accept, I assume?"

"I haven't made my decision yet," Jasmine admitted, "but I expect to. Probably make it official next summer. But what makes this relevant is that by being a Black — by being the official Black heiress — I'll eventually control the Black seat on the Wizengamot. Assuming Sirius doesn't have any kids, of course."

"And that's important because...?" Minerva asked, wondering where this was going.

Jasmine took a deep breath and let it out. "It's been made clear to me that having political power would help me — help **us** — make changes in society. There's too much wrong with magical Britain, and I don't just mean how couples like us are treated."

"If magical society in Britain is going to change," Hermione said, "it would be better if it happened with as little violence as possible. Working inside the system gives us a chance to achieve that. If we have to work entirely outside the system, well..."

Minerva nodded sadly. "I think I understand. This is about S.P.E.W., then, but with real political muscle and money behind it rather than just a covert school organization with grand aspirations."

"It's about S.P.E.W.," Jasmine conceded, trying to ignore Hermione's huff, "but it's also about the Great Prophecy. And it's about Voldemort. And it's about his supporters — marked and unmarked. The more we look at it all, the more tied together it all seems to be."

"We won't be able to truly deal with any one of those issues without dealing with the others as well," Hermione said. "We told the founding members of S.P.E.W. last term that the goals of the group wouldn't matter if Voldemort wasn't stopped. Now we've found that the web we're caught in is a bit larger than we realized."

Minerva cast a small heating charm on her now-cold tea before picking it back up and taking a sip. "What do you intend to tell your friends? You can't keep all of this from them, you know."

"We intend to start telling them some of it soon," Hermione responded. "Probably the Voldemort prophecy, since that deals with the largest, most immediate threat to them. We've already told our closest friends, but we'll have to tell our study group, too."

"It's also something they're already dealing with," Jasmine pointed out, "so that prophecy doesn't involve dumping a lot of new information or expectations on them. It's... well, I guess it's mostly just confirmation that ending Voldemort is definitely something that I'll have to do."

"As for the rest," Hermione said a bit hesitantly, "we don't know. We can't tell them the Great Prophecy without telling them about the soul bond, which means telling them about our relationship. And that... that may be too much for some."

Minerva paused to consider that. "You make a good point, Miss Granger, but at the same time, such big secrets are corrosive to any friendship. Even if they don't notice that you're keeping something from them, when you do finally tell them, they'll wonder why you waited. It's probably fine to wait for a bit as you all get used to working together again, but waiting too long would be a bad idea. At some point, you'll have to take a chance and tell them."

Jasmine sighed. "I suppose you're right. I'm just worried about being able to pick the right time."

"Worry about improving the relationships first," Minerva said. "The rest will come. In the meantime, you have my full support. If there is anything I can do to help you with either of those prophecies — even if it's just to provide an ear to listen to your concerns — don't hesitate to ask me."

After a bit of small talk, Hermione raised an issue that had been bothering her since the ride on the Hogwarts Express. "Professor McGonagall," she started, "I've been wondering... uh, that is, we've been wondering... um, after the Midsummer's Eve ritual last term, did you notice any, you know, changes? Physically, I mean?"

Minerva raised one eyebrow, and her teacup froze part way to her mouth. Slowly she set it back on its saucer and placed them both gently on the table. She then folded her hands in her lap and looked over her glasses at the two squirming witches. "Midsummer's Eve?" she asked slowly. "That sounds about right. I think you two have some explaining to do."

Both Jasmine and Hermione shrank back in their seats, completely at a loss for how to explain any of this to their much-older professor.

* * *

 **Sunday, September 12, 1995, Evening.**

Minerva McGonagall stared at herself in the full-body mirror — a mirror she'd had to conjure because it had been years since she'd last looked at herself this way. Normally the mirror above her sink was more than enough to ensure that her hair was set right, and she could look down to verify that her clothes were straight. What else did she need to look professional? She hadn't tried to look attractive for someone else in so long, she could barely remember it.

Now, though, she was amazed at what she was seeing. _I knew there had been changes_ , she thought as she kept slowly turning in one direction and then the other, _but until I talked to the girls, I hadn't realized they had become so... extensive. I'm pretty sure that my body hasn't looked like this since... well, since most of my current students' parents were in school themselves._

McGonagall's expression slowly turned into a smile as she began to appreciate how much better she looked. Then abruptly, the smile fell. With a wave of her wand, she vanished the mirror and put back on her dressing gown, cinching it with a harsh tug on the thin belt. She slowly sat down on her couch and reached for an old photo album she'd been looking at more and more often in recent months.

* * *

 **Monday, September 13, 1995, Morning.**

 _Scritch. Scritch. Scratch. Scritch._

Jasmine kept grinding her teeth, and she was holding her quill so tight that she was about to break it in two. Only Hermione kicking her under their desk prevented her from jumping up and screaming. _Does that witch have to be insanely annoying in absolutely everything she does?_ Jasmine wondered furiously. Even Binns occasionally stumbled over his words and looked as though he wanted to say something, but dared not lest his facade of immutability take a hit.

They hadn't been surprised to see Umbridge enter the class shortly after it started. She was supposed to inspect all staff and all students, so it only stood to reason that she'd show up in all of their classes sooner or later. It was the feeling that she was constantly watching the two of them from the back of the room that was slowly but surely pushing Jasmine and Hermione to the brink.

It was the loud scratching sound she made when writing that had given Jasmine a good, swift kick right over the edge.

By the end of class, even Binns looked like he was glad it was over (though it was hard to tell by his face), and almost everyone acted like they wanted to run as far and as fast from the experience as possible.

Unfortunately for Jasmine and Hermione, there was nowhere that they could run.

Umbridge thankfully didn't show up for the double Potions lesson they had before lunch, but she was there for Runes right after lunch, and they kept seeing her in the corridors in between classes all day. It wasn't that she was following them, exactly; instead, she somehow managed to already be wherever Jasmine and Hermione were going. Sometimes she seemed to be waiting for them, and sometimes they would turn around and find her standing there, staring at them.

That was perhaps even creepier than her constant presence: the staring. She didn't say anything. She didn't even do anything overt. Instead, she just kept staring at them, as if she thought her eyes could bore holes straight through them.

Jasmine and Hermione were on edge the entire day, worried about finding Umbridge around the next corner. By the time the day ended, they were too upset to bother with their regular mind magics practice and just held each other in bed, lying awake for hours before they could sleep.

* * *

 **Tuesday, September 14, 1995, Morning.**

Luna's eyes lit up Tuesday morning when she saw two owls carrying a large package head straight for her. She was almost bouncing in her seat as she untied the string while Ron and Neville offered bacon to the owls, It was only when she pulled off the wrapping parchment that everyone else found out why she was so excited: her father had sent her several copies of the September issue of the _Quibbler_.

Across the top of the front cover screamed the headline:

 **POTTER & GRANGER DEFY MINISTRY PERSECUTION**

Along the bottom was printed:

 **Hogwarts Witches: Unbowed! Unbroken! Unashamed!**

And in the middle was a magical photo of Jasmine and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room. It showed them both with defiant looks on their faces, and Hermione recognized it as having been taken around the time Professor McGonagall had come to get Jasmine to meet with the Headmaster about the fight with Malfoy.

"My father purchased that photo from Colin Creevy," Luna said, as if she had been reading Hermione's thoughts. "I think it came out rather nice, don't you?"

"It is amazing," Gabrielle said as she gazed at the photo. "Do you have an extra copy, perhaps?" she asked as she looked at Luna hopefully.

"Of course," Luna said sweetly. "I made sure to ask Daddy to send enough for us all."

Hermione could only nod in agreement with Gabrielle's opinion and watched as Luna passed out free copies to members of their study group. They had all welcomed her and Ginny warmly, and she was clearly feeling a bit indebted to them. Observing the effect of this gesture on everyone in their small group gave Hermione a warm, fuzzy feeling... a feeling which was quickly shot down by Jasmine.

"So," she asked, "how long do you think it will be before any of the professors reads this? Before Umbridge reads it?"

* * *

As the day progressed, the answer to Jasmine's questions appeared to be: quite a while. Only a few students at Hogwarts and no one on staff subscribed to the _Quibbler_ , apparently. Just about the only copies in school were those that had been handed out to members of the study group, none of whom were prepared to part with the magazines. They were willing to let others read their copies, however — under close supervision, of course.

The reaction among the Hogwarts students was decidedly positive. Most witches were pleased by the favorable coverage of how they'd stood behind Jasmine and Hermione, despite being aware of the potential backlash. They were also outraged, however, to learn the details of how the Ministry had treated the girls over the summer. It was exactly such unfair treatment that they had organized against in Hogwarts, and here was the Ministry trying to do even worse!

By late afternoon, Luna had received payment for over four dozen subscriptions and expected more the following day. In each case she promised that their subscription would include a copy of the September issue; little did she know that outside Hogwarts, this newest issue was selling so fast that her father had already started printing a second run and was contemplating whether he'd need a third.

* * *

Padma looked down at her brand-new copy of the _Quibbler_ and thought about how much her life had changed over the past few months. Originally she had just wanted to apologize to Jasmine Potter (and with any luck, get in on a study group that looked like it had a lot of potential); it really hadn't been that big of a deal. Now, though, she seemed to find herself on the forefront of a revolutionary movement that was dedicated to first eliminating You-Know-Who, then to reforming magical society.

 _How did I get myself into this?_ she wondered. When she was alone, she couldn't see how she was cut out for such a monumental task. She wasn't brave or powerful enough to fight dark lords or challenge magical governments. She'd always felt more at home with books in the library than with politics or fighting.

When she was with her new friends, though, she often felt that she could do anything. She was faster, stronger, more accurate, and just better overall. It was scary, yet she found that she generally liked who she was becoming.

 _But is this what I want for myself?_ she asked. No easy answers came to her.

* * *

By dinner time, it didn't appear as though anyone on staff had become aware of the journal's contents or of the feelings being generated by it. Jasmine and Hermione finally decided to take pity on Professor McGonagall and at least alert her, worried about her potential reaction if she were surprised by someone else telling her. So after dinner they got an extra copy from Luna and delivered it to their head of house's office. She took one look at the cover and sighed deeply.

"Didn't I tell you something about keeping your heads down?" she asked with a touch of asperity as she ushered them to their usual seats.

"Luna wrote this for her father," Hermione protested. "We offered some quotes and background information, but that was back in August!"

Minerva shook her head reproachfully and started to skim the main article. Then she reread it more closely and followed it up with the accompanying article that detailed events surrounding the fight with Draco Malfoy as well as her kidnapping by "dark wizards."

"I'm curious," she said. "Why didn't you tell the truth about the return of You-Know-Who?"

"We thought about it," Jasmine admitted, "but in the end we concluded that too many wouldn't believe it, and that would cast too much doubt on everything else. We can achieve what we want without naming the 'dark wizards' who kidnapped me. And since I already told the Ministry that one of those wizards identified themselves as Voldemort, it's not like anyone can accuse me of trying to conceal that."

"Quite the opposite, in fact," Hermione pointed out. "Since Fudge denied that he could have returned — and in front of witnesses — Jasmine here is arguably conforming to Ministry policy."

Minerva snorted. "Clever — though I doubt that your enemies will be persuaded."

"I doubt **anything** I say or do would persuade them," Jasmine replied.

"True enough," Minerva said with a sigh. "You know that that witch will try to crucify you over this article, right?"

Hermione shrugged. "Everything here is the truth. They won't be able to cite anything in the trial record to contradict anything in the article."

"Luna is probably at greater risk than us," Jasmine pointed out. "Her name is on the article, after all. And if anything is done to us, it will cause even more people to think that the Ministry has something to hide."

Minerva nodded in agreement. "Very well, I'd better let the Headmaster know about this. I'll have to call Filius into the meeting as well, I suppose, since Miss Lovegood's involved."

She watched the two of them closely as they left her office. _May you live in interesting times, indeed_ , she thought.

* * *

The Hogwarts owlery was almost completely empty by curfew that night because so many students (mostly witches) had written strongly worded letters back home (mostly to their mothers) about how horrible it was that two witches could nearly be expelled and their wands snapped simply for defending themselves and their families.

This was linked in many people's minds to Jasmine's defiant retaliation against Draco Malfoy's rape threats, even though the two incidents had nothing to do with each other. As a result, many witches spent the next morning giving their husbands an earful about how important it was that their daughters be allowed to defend themselves, and by the end of breakfast, the Minister for Magic's office would be inundated with unexpected howlers from all over Britain about the Ministry making it easier for young witches to be sexually assaulted by dark creatures.


	18. Cleanin' Out My Closet

**A/N:** As always, thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, don't hesitate to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "19th September" by sprinter1988. It's Hermione's birthday, so she should be happy, right? Well, she tries. She tries very, very hard, but things simply do not go the way she had hoped. Not for Ron fans. Really.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 18 - Cleanin' Out My Closet**

 **Wednesday, September 15, 1995, Morning.**

"You!" came a screech as Jasmine felt a hand grab her shoulder and pull her around in her seat at the Gryffindor table, where she'd been eating breakfast with her friends. Shocked at the sudden noise and rough treatment, she looked up to see the face of Dolores Umbridge, twisted into a rictus of fury and hatred. If it hadn't been for all the pink, she might have been almost unrecognizable.

"How dare you!" she screeched again as she shoved a copy of the most recent _Quibbler_ in Jasmine's face. "How dare you attack the Ministry and wizarding society like this!" The hand that had grabbed her shoulder started squeezing even harder. "I thought I understood how much of a threat you pose, but clearly I underestimated just how evil the two of you are," she hissed, looking back and forth between Jasmine and Hermione now. "I had thought it would be enough to simply remove you from Hogwarts and wizarding society, but clearly far more drastic measures will be necessary!"

"Madam Umbridge!" Dumbledore said with uncharacteristic sharpness as he approached from the head table. "You are not permitted to physically assault the students!" Umbridge gave an extra-hard squeeze before withdrawing her hand, and Jasmine had to roll her shoulder to relieve the pain from her claw-like grip. It was only then that Ginny and Neville could let go of Gabrielle, no longer needing to hold her back from launching herself at Umbridge.

"Excuse me, Headmaster," the pink witch responded. "I was simply interrogating this student about this article." She now shoved the _Quibbler_ in Dumbledore's direction. "Did you know anything about it?"

He looked down at the offending journal with mild interest. "Yes, I saw it yesterday, which I believe was the day it was made available."

"And?" she demanded. When Dumbledore simply raised a questioning eyebrow in reply, she continued in an even angrier tone. "What are you going to do about this?"

"Do?" he asked. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Yes, do!" she cried. "This is sedition! This is libel! This trash should be banned, and those responsible must be punished!"

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully as he looked at her. "As I seem to recall, everything in there is factually accurate. Well, except perhaps for the article about snorkacks, but I think that qualifies more as speculation than sedition."

Umbridge looked flustered for a moment, then charged on ahead. "It's sedition because it makes fools out of the Minister and the Ministry!"

"And Dolores Umbridge," Jasmine stage-whispered before Hermione could stop her.

"Yes!" the pink witch agreed. "And Dolores... you!" she shouted as she turned back to the students sitting at the Gryffindor table. "This is your fault!"

"Madam Umbridge," Dumbledore said forcefully, trying to draw her attention away from the students. "What you are holding is a legally published journal. I have no authority to ban it from the school simply because you disagree with some of the contents. I similarly have no authority to punish a student for any sort of involvement with such articles. As I was reminded recently, I have no authority over students outside of this school and so can neither punish nor reward them for anything they do during the summer holidays."

Umbridge looked as though she were about to explode, but then all the anger seemed to abruptly evaporate, and she looked as calm as Dumbledore. "Very well," she said in a tight, controlled voice that belied her real feelings. "We'll see what happens soon enough." She then spun on her heel and stalked out of the Great Hall with everyone's eyes on her back.

"Miss Potter," Dumbledore said as he looked down at the students. "Please do try to control yourself in the future."

"Sorry," she mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. He simply shook his head and strode back to the head table to finish his breakfast.

* * *

 **Thursday, September 18, 1995, Morning.**

Before Jasmine, Hermione, and their friends entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, they witnessed Filch attaching something to one of the walls of the entranceway outside the Great Hall. When he was done, they found that it was an educational decree.

"According to this, 'Red Howlers are forbidden on the premises.'" Hermione said aloud. "Why would howlers be forbidden? Not that I'm complaining — they're awful things that no parent should use, but still... why now?"

"That's Umbridge's signature," Neville pointed out. "But why would she bother with something like that?"

"I heard her office got flooded with howlers," they heard Daphne say, not realizing that she'd come up behind them. "Someone else in Slytherin was outside her door when a bunch of them went off. He couldn't quite make out what they were all saying, but he was sure that at least some of them had to do with articles that appeared in _The_ _Quibbler_."

"Serves her right," Jasmine muttered.

"This is probably only the beginning," Ron said. When the others turned to look at him, he went on, "Well, think about it. As far as I know, no one here on staff has ever tried to stop them, much less ban them outright. None of them did anything after the Howler I got second year. But as soon as **she** gets a few, she's able to ban them."

"So we know that she can and will ban something if it bothers her enough," Hermione finished, realization dawning.

Neville nodded. "We can probably expect more like this, because I've yet to see anything that she **doesn't** dislike."

* * *

Gabrielle frowned as she ate breakfast and thought about what Neville had said. _Umbridge seeks to eliminate whatever she doesn't like, especially if it challenges her_ , she thought. _She seems to hate Jasmine and has already tried to get her kicked out of Britain's magical community once, but now it's clear that she will change the rules or create new ones just to further her goals. So it doesn't matter if the path to getting rid of Jasmine is legal or not — Umbridge will make it legal if she finds a plan she thinks will work._

Gabrielle was somewhat torn by the prospect of Jasmine being forced out of magical Britain. If they could save her wand and belongings, she could be easily smuggled into France, where she could safely pursue fulfilling the Great Prophecy without having to worry about narrow-minded British wizards and ridiculous British laws. On the other hand... Jasmine didn't want to be kicked out of Britain. For some reason, she wanted to stay here, at least for now.

 _So I'll have to help her stay_ , Gabrielle concluded. _At least until she sees reason and moves somewhere that will be more welcoming to her and her partner. France isn't perfect, but it would be much better, and there isn't a single veela enclave in the world that wouldn't welcome them with open arms. But if she's going to stay... Umbridge will have to go._

* * *

 **Friday, September 18, 1995, Late Afternoon.**

Sirius looked down at the documents that he'd been staring at for the past few hours, ever since shortly after the Gringotts owl delivered them and he had taken them up to the warded portrait room. His mother had been uncharacteristically patient as she watched him, seemingly sympathetic to his distress. _She blasted me off of the family tree without a second thought_ , he thought sourly, _but now she has no problem with my reluctance to officially expel two of her three nieces from the family?_

Finally he sighed and picked up the quill. "I don't know why this is so difficult," he said aloud. "Especially when it comes to Bellatrix — if anyone ever deserved to be expelled from the Black family, it's her." Slowly, he began to sign his name at the half-dozen places which the goblins had marked for him. "Even by your standards, Mother," he continued, "her oaths of loyalty to You-Know-Who and her Dark Mark should be more than enough to exclude her from the House of Black."

She didn't say anything as he finished signing the documents and he felt a bit of magic wash over him, confirming Bellatrix's expulsion from the family. Once the documents were returned to Gringotts, they would begin the process of reclaiming Black family heirlooms as well as the dowry she had been given for her marriage.

Next he laid out another set of identical documents, this time for his cousin Narcissa. As hard as expelling Bellatrix was, doing the same to Narcissa was even harder. He abhorred her choices in life, but at least she wasn't a psychopath. Still, his mother had convinced him that it was necessary. He picked up the quill again and...

"Master Sirius?" came a hoarse voice from behind him.

Sirius turned and was surprised to see Kreacher. He was even more surprised when he registered that the foul little elf had called him "master," something he'd never done except as part of an insult. "What do you want?" he asked with a frown.

"Could... could Mistress Cissy be spared?" the house elf asked in an uncharacteristically subservient manner.

"Spared?" Sirius asked. "Why? And why are you asking?"

Kreacher pulled on and twisted his towel for a moment, then said, "Mistress Cissy is hurting and afraid. Mistress Cissy would like to be part of the Black family."

Both Sirius and Walburga narrowed their eyes at this, but Sirius was the first to respond. "How do you know this?" he demanded. "What have you been doing?"

Now Kreacher started tugging hard on his ears, but Walburga said sternly, "Answer him, Kreacher."

"Mistress Cissy has called Kreacher, yes she has. Mistress Cissy was always nice to Kreacher, so Kreacher came and Kreacher helped. Mistress Cissy is suffering so, but has no one to help her. No one but poor old Kreacher, so Kreacher brings her potions and listens as she cries. Kreacher wants to do more, he does, but Kreacher can't. Kreacher's oaths force him to help members of the House of Black, but Kreacher's oaths don't let him help Mistress Cissy enough. Oh, what is Kreacher to do? What will become of Mistress Cissy?"

Sirius' frown deepened when he realized that Kreacher had been sneaking off to Narcissa and helping her. The fact that she was in pain troubled him not at all, especially given what he was about to do to her. "Kreacher," he said, "I forbid you from leaving this house without explicit permission from me. Do you understand?"

Kreacher started moaning as if he himself were in physical pain. Before Sirius could say anything else, however, his mother's portrait spoke up. "Sirius, perhaps we can use this."

"What do you mean?" he asked as he spun around to face her.

"I'm not surprised that Kreacher went to her when she called," she explained. "He's long had a soft spot for her, and she always treated him well. Now that she's apparently hurting and in trouble, of course he'd want to help her as much as his oaths and magic allow."

"And?" Sirius asked.

"Clearly she's desperate," his mother explained. "She wouldn't be calling a Black family elf otherwise. She should have her own elf, but for some reason it's not helping her. Neither are her husband or son. The situation must be bad."

"You're not suggesting that we help her, are you?" Sirius asked. "I was just about to expel her from the family — and on your recommendation, too, if you'll recall. Why would you now recommend that I help her instead?"

"I didn't say that you should help her for **free** ," Walburga replied. Slowly, Sirius began to smile, and Kreacher wondered if perhaps he'd just made things even worse for his Mistress Cissy.

* * *

 **Saturday, September 18, 1995, Evening.**

Albus Dumbledore noted the suspicious looks that Jasmine Potter cast around his office as she walked through his door. That didn't surprise him in the least; what did surprise him was the fact that she was accompanied by her best friend. "Miss Potter," he said as the two young witches approached his desk. "Perhaps my message wasn't clear, but my invitation was to you alone." Turning to the second visitor, he said, "Miss Granger, I'm sorry that you wasted your time, but you'll need to return to your common room."

He had assumed that they would simply do as he said, especially since they had learned at the end of last month just what could happen when his instructions were ignored. Instead, they merely looked at each other, then back at him before Jasmine said, "I'm sorry, Headmaster, but whatever you have to say to me, you might as well say to Hermione too, because if I'm here alone, I'll just end up telling her later. Better that she get the information directly."

"Just because she has to face down Voldemort doesn't mean that she'll do it alone," Hermione added. "I expect to be with her every step of the way, right through to the end. Anything she needs to know in order to fulfill that prophecy, I'll need to know, too. I've spent the past four years working to keep her alive — I'm hardly going to quit now."

Dumbledore frowned. "Miss Potter, some of the things I need to tell you must be kept as secret as possible if we are to have any hope of defeating Voldemort."

"Then she and I will both have to keep your secrets," Jasmine said simply.

Sighing with exasperation, Dumbledore rose and walked over to the windows behind his desk. Looking over the Hogwarts grounds at night, he despaired over having to deal with pushy witches and wondered how they had gotten to this point. _Well_ , he quickly realized, _the answer is obvious: they don't trust me or my counsel, not any more. Not even after what happened to Miss Granger._ It pained him to have lost the trust of someone he knew to be so vitally important to the future of wizarding Britain, but he also knew that most if not all of the responsibility rested with him. Somehow, decisions which had made so much sense at the time had turned around on him to cause him no end of trouble.

Slowly, he turned back to the two witches and looked upon them with a critical eye. _I cannot say for sure how the final confrontation will go_ , he considered, _nor if I'll even be there for it. Miss Granger's intelligence and loyalty may be necessary in helping Miss Potter complete her task successfully. They've certainly proven necessary many times so far. And since turning Miss Potter away from a dark, violent path may not work if Miss Granger encourages her in that direction, then maybe it's for the best if I hold these sessions with both._

"Very well," he said as he returned to his desk, summoning a second chair for the unexpected student before he himself sat down. "I shall do what I can to accommodate you, if you insist on doing this together." Both witches nodded as they sat.

"Before we begin, though, I wanted to ask if you wished to continue any part of our prior conversation," Dumbledore said. "I realize that it might not be pleasant, but it might also be necessary if we are going to work together going forward."

They looked unhappy and ill at ease, but Jasmine spoke first. "No... no, I don't think so. I'm trying to accept that you had no malicious intentions, but that doesn't mean that I'm satisfied with the excuses you offered. Even assuming that you had the best of intentions in every instance, you still made horrible mistakes with me — with both of us, in fact — and yet you still want us to learn from you and follow your lead."

"And that's on top of the fact that, by all accounts... well, you weren't exactly winning the last war, were you?" Hermione added, looking a bit uncomfortable to be pointing this out, but forging ahead anyway.

"Right," Jasmine said. "We don't claim to know everything, but we're also not prepared to simply take everything you say on faith." Her face hardened. "I swore I'd never be a victim again, but I won't be a puppet, either."

Dumbledore grimaced, more than a little annoyed at being so challenged by two underaged witches. At the same time, though, he couldn't refute their accusations. _It's all true_ , he conceded silently. _I'm going to have to work every step of the way to earn their trust, something that I haven't had to do in many decades. Actively questioning everything is a good quality in an advanced student_ , _but it's not so attractive in a student who needs to be guided by one who knows more than they do._

"That is, of course, your decision," Dumbledore responded finally. "However, I hope that over time — over the course of these lessons, in fact — you will come to trust me a little bit more. I don't deny that I am not perfect, but I have been doing this for a long time."

He then proceeded to show them how to use a pensieve, an enchanted device which fascinated Hermione to no end, and took them into a memory of a Ministry official who had been called to deal with a member of a family named Gaunt. It took Jasmine a few minutes, but she finally remembered that Marvolo Gaunt shared a name with Tom Riddle. That was when Dumbledore explained that they had just witnessed Voldemort's maternal relatives: a witch who was barely above a squib, and two inbred blood bigots who possessed a great deal of pride and arrogance, but almost no gold or other resources.

"So, that's where Voldemort comes from," Jasmine said in a whisper after they had exited the memory.

"Yes and no," Dumbledore responded. "That was his fam... er, perhaps I should say, those were his **relatives**. You even got a glimpse of his father for a moment there. However, he did not grow up with them, so it's hard to say what, if any, influence they could have had on the development of Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort."

"I'm assuming that he knew about all of these people, though, right?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yes, indeed," Dumbledore responded. "He didn't learn the details until a few years after he started attending Hogwarts, but he eventually discovered his origins."

"Then they still had an influence, even if indirectly," Hermione said. "First from their absence, then from the search, then finally from his reactions to what he found."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "That's very perceptive of you, Miss Granger. Yes, you're right, these relatives did have an impact on the development of Tom Riddle, even if not in any of the usual, obvious ways."

After discussing Tom Riddle's childhood for a bit longer, Dumbledore announced that he had a couple of other memories to show them and, once he had deposited them into his pensieve, led them into the middle of a memory of a pitched battle in a small village. Lethal spells were flying back and forth while houses burned in the background. The devastation was terrible, and both witches wanted to be sick when they saw all the mangled, cursed bodies of dead combattants lying in the streets.

Soon the battle was over, and while it appeared that the attackers had lost, it was a pyrrhic victory at best, judging by how many defenders were on the ground, bleeding or dead. It wasn't long before a much younger-looking Dumbledore himself appeared in the memory, inspecting the damage and talking to the survivors.

"Sir!" said a uniformed wizard who approached Dumbledore. "The attack was driven back, but we took a lot of casualties. It's lucky that we had time to evacuate the civilians. I don't understand, though, sir. Why here? There's nothing of value here."

The young Dumbledore stood quietly for a moment before saying, "I suspect it was a feint. Send word to our other outposts to see if any of them don't respond. If so, let me know immediately and prepare for reinforcements to be sent to that location. That's where we'll find the main thrust of Grindelwald's attack."

The memory dissolved into a different battle in a different village — different, yet the same. Jasmine and Hermione could see many of the same spells being used and the same wounds on the fallen. Even the faces of the fallen scarcely looked any different.

After a series of four memories, Dumbledore pulled them back out, and the two young witches sat heavily in their chairs. Both looked quite ill after seeing so much death and destruction on such a personal level.

"Why... why did you show us that?" Jasmine asked.

"Why do you think, Miss Potter?" Dumbledore asked cryptically.

"I suspect you just wanted to see us get sick at the sight of battle," Jasmine said sarcastically, but she was surprised to see Dumbledore nod. "What, really?"

"Well, not exactly," Dumbledore admitted, "but it's not too far off the truth. That's all I'll say on the matter for now. Perhaps we'll talk about it more next time." Recognizing that as a dismissal, Jasmine and Hermione left the headmaster's office looking shaken.

 _At least they weren't exhilarated and excited by the battle_ , Dumbledore thought once they were gone. _It's good to see that they are still capable of abhorring such death and destruction... that they aren't so far gone that they no longer give any consideration to how warfare destroys human lives. Perhaps there is hope for them yet._

* * *

 **Sunday, September 19, 1995, Late Morning.**

"So, that's when my mother advised that I come talk to you about it," Sirius explained. "When she first recommended that I do it, I was surprised. Then I was excited and looking forward to it. Finally, when it came time to do it... well, it was suddenly a lot harder than I ever imagined it would be."

Elladora's portrait hummed in understanding. "The power to expel someone from a family like ours is not something to be used lightly. It cannot be undone, and it sunders bonds of blood which cannot be remade. This is why it is a power only rarely invoked. I'm surprised Walburga recommended it."

"Not as surprised as I am," Sirius replied. "She blasted my name off of the family tree, after all, and would have expelled me officially if she could have, but now she's working with me and relying on me, thus proving how awful of a decision it would have been to expel me."

"I'm not sure that the two situations are entirely comparable," Elladora said, "but it's not an unreasonable point. Regardless, what matters here is the fact that you went along with the suggestion, not that she made it. Why did you?"

"I... I'm not entirely sure, to be honest," Sirius admitted. "My mother was sure that it would help protect Jasmine, which is more than enough reason, but I'm not convinced how much protection it will provide. I'm sure she has other reasons that she's not saying, but I can't figure out what they might be."

"And so you feel guilty about it?" Elladora prodded.

"Sort of," Sirius responded with a shrug. "If we'd met in battle, I'd have cursed Bellatrix without a second thought, and if she died I wouldn't have lost any sleep. But to expel her from the family... feels different. I guess family can fight, but they are still family. Expulsion says that you're not only **not** family anymore, but you never were. There was a time when I didn't hate Bellatrix, but now... now I've said that she was never family, not even back then."

"And you have so few good memories of your blood family that it feels wrong to reject what little is there?"

"That's it exactly," Sirius said. "Yes, I think that's my problem right now. I didn't just reject Bellatrix as she is now, the psycho killer, but all she ever was, even when she was a fun-loving and precocious little girl."

"Which is why the power of expulsion is so great," Elladora pointed out. "But didn't Bellatrix reject the Black family first? Didn't she turn her back on all Blacks by taking that awful mark?"

"Yeah, there is that," Sirius agreed. "It's just about the only thing that makes this bearable."

"Perhaps you should focus on that for now," she advised. "Then later do something to say goodbye to the Bellatrix who was. Something like a memorial service, perhaps?"

"Hmmm... that's not a bad idea," Sirius said as he stared out at nothing, thinking about her suggestion.

"I was wondering," Elladora said, changing topics, "how you're getting along with your goddaughter and her friend?"

"Oh, that's going great," Sirius said, happy for a chance to talk about something pleasant. "We didn't have nearly enough time together this summer, but what time we did have was good."

"You don't have any problems with her being such close friends with a muggleborn?" she asked.

"Don't tell me that you buy into all of that pureblood bigotry? I thought you were different!"

Elladora looked like she was trying to be patient. "This isn't about me, Sirius, it's about you. However, if it's important for you to know, I'll admit that while I was alive, I absorbed more than a little bit of prejudice against muggleborns. It would have been impossible not to as a member of the Black family at that time. However, it was never an active hatred or animosity. It was more... passive. It was a background assumption that I took for granted but never thought much about because I never had to. Muggleborns were rare, and I don't think I ever talked to one while I was at Hogwarts. At least, not that I knew."

Sirius nodded slowly, starting to see what she meant.

"If it helps," she continued, "Jasmine's muggleborn friend seems like a nice, decent person as well as a powerful witch. As a portrait I cannot simply shed the prejudices I had while alive, because then I would not accurately reflect the person I was. Nevertheless, I don't have anything against her personally — despite my background prejudices, I think she is a good friend to your goddaughter."

"I guess some prejudices are hard to get rid of," Sirius offered.

"Indeed they are," she responded with a slight smile. "We all have quite a few such prejudices, and they cling to us like cobwebs from a dusty old house because we are never confronted with them — we never have to face situations where they are directly challenged. If we were, we might be forced to change and grow in ways we'd never considered."

Sirius nodded again — understanding, but also not understanding. _Not yet, at any rate_ , Elladora mused.

* * *

 **Sunday, September 19, 1995, Evening.**

Because her birthday fell on a weekend, Hermione was able to enjoy spending the entire day with Jasmine without having to worry about classes or pink-clad witches following them around. Dobby and Winky managed to slip in some of her favorite dishes for breakfast, after which they immediately went to the Room of Requirement, where Hermione had insisted that they finish at least a bit of homework.

Jasmine didn't mind, since they were still working from the rewards system that Hermione had instituted durng the previous term.

Lunch was served in the Room of Requirement, and this time without any oysters or spicy avocado sauce. After a bit of pushing, the girls had finally gotten the elves to admit that they had been under the impression that such dishes were aphrodisiacs, so they'd been serving them to "encourage" their mistresses. Hermione and Jasmine thanked them, then promptly told them to cut it out.

The afternoon was spent in Hermione's Hot Tub Grotto, where they could further relax from the stress of the past few days while also working up an appetite for later. They were both mussed and flushed when they came down for dinner, something they attributed to all of the extra training they had been doing — the same excuse they used for why they'd been absent all day.

It was only after dinner that a birthday party was held for Hermione, but although it was held in the Gryffindor common room like all Gryffindor birthday parties were, their friends from other houses were allowed to attend as well. That included their three friends from Slytherin, despite some noises of protest from Ron and some impressive scowling from Cormac McLaggen. The presence of Fleur gave them a chaperone, thus making the size and composition of the party a lot easier to justify.

It was a simple party consisting of cake, butterbeer, and a few presents. Gryffindors mostly gave Hermione sweets, a gift which seemed to be popular among magical teens. The main exception was the witches in her year and the the study group, all of whom got together to buy her a gift certificate to Gossypamer & Organza's. After relations had started thawing in the dorm last term, Hermione told the others about how much she loved shopping there, leading to a noticeable upswing in business for the store as other Gryffindor witches began frequenting it.

Her first real surprise was a gift from Arthur Weasley. She shot a questioning look at the Weasleys who were sitting there, but none of them had any idea what it was or why he had done it. It was only an envelope, and when she opened it she found a card with a short note from Mr. Weasley: "Since this is your OWL year, I thought you might benefit from this. I'm sure you'll enjoy taking Jasmine with you since she's surely just as stressed as you. I hope you both have loads of fun!"

Still a bit confused, she looked again at the card and felt the blood all drain out of her face when she read what it was: **Kama Sutra Partners' Massage Class** — a five-lesson beginner's course for two people. Covers important anatomical landmarks, safety, short massages for the back, shoulders, and feet, and happy endings.

Hermione's brain short-circuited briefly, but as soon as she sensed someone else trying to look at the card, she hurriedly tucked it back in the envelope and then stuffed the envelope in her bag.

"What was it?" Ron asked.

"Uh, just, uh, something muggle," Hermione said evasively.

"Our dad bought you something muggle?" one twin asked.

"That's unusual even for him," the other added.

"He must have gone out of his way to find it, and thought it especially suited for you," the first twin continued.

That only made Hermione more nervous, which she tried to cover up by taking a long drink of butterbeer — all of which she choked on when Ron said, "I'm sure he'll ask you all about it and demand all sorts of details whenever you're done with it."

After a confused and concerned Jasmine helped Hermione get cleaned up, the birthday girl moved on to the second surprise gift, this time from Tonks. Now more than a bit gun-shy when it came to unexpected gifts, she carefully read the attached note: "For you and your 'mysterious boyfriend' (wink, wink). I figured you deserved to have a bit of fun, and it's my sworn duty to encourage you in doing things your parents wouldn't approve of if they ever knew about it. Enjoy!"

Hermione's hands were practically shaking when she lifted the lid of the box. Once she saw the contents, she was happy that she'd only lifted the part closest to her in order to prevent anyone else from seeing inside. She had no idea what the rest of the group would think of fuzzy pink handcuffs, silk rope, flavored body paint, and a few other things she couldn't identify in the two seconds before she slammed the lid back down.

"Well, what did Tonks give you?" Fleur asked.

"Nothing!" Hermione said far too quickly. _I'm going to kill Tonks! What was she thinking! Wait, does she_ _ **know**_ _? Does Mr. Weasley know?_

"Surely she didn't give you an empty box," Jasmine said.

"I mean, nothing important!" Hermione responded. "Nothing special!" Desperate for a distraction, she quickly grabbed the last present. "Let me open yours, Jasmine!"

"I've heard about that Tonks," Susan said to Daphne and Tracey. "She graduated the year before we arrived, but lots of Puffs still remembered and talked about her. My auntie also knows her well, since she apparently made a lot of waves during auror training. Based on the stories about her, I'll bet she gave Hermione some flimsy lingerie or something like that." Both of the other witches snickered at the thought, though they were also clearly curious about what sort of lingerie would cause Hermione to get that flustered.

Fortunately, Jasmine knew better than to give Hermione something embarrassing — in public, at least. But her gift was no less attention-grabbing for all that — a black dragonhide jacket attracts attention no matter where you are.

"Jasmine... this... this is amazing," Hermione said as she held it up to gaze at it in awe.

"I knew it would look good on you," Jasmine explained as her girlfriend stood and tried it on. "But it will also protect you, and that's even more important."

The party broke up once the non-Gryffindors had to leave for curfew. The girls went to bed early, which gave Hermione a chance to explain privately what the odd gifts were. She put all of them away for much, much later... except for the body paints. She had ideas about how she'd like to use them.

Shortly before midnight, Jasmine snuck into Hermione's bed and gave her a second gift, one that definitely couldn't be given in public. This time they were paying attention, and both saw the magical glowing lights as they formed and intertwined. Hermione would have been fascinated to see Jasmine's green and her blue lights shift to white as they blended together, but she was far too preoccupied with the matter at hand — and once her brain finally restarted, the lights were gone.

It wouldn't have mattered, though, because she fell asleep, exhausted and content, within minutes anyway.

* * *

In Malfoy Manor, Lord Voldemort was mercifully unconscious. The pain had started early that morning, waxing and waning all day until around midnight, when it grew to such an extreme that he stunned himself just so he wouldn't have to endure it anymore. Nagini wasn't much better off. She had been outside hunting when the worst of the pain hit, and so Voldemort had been too far away to even try to do anything to help her.

Somehow, she knew that her pain was connected to the strange ritual he'd performed on her over the summer. The magic of the ritual had made her larger and stronger, which was all well and good, but it had also created a connection to her master that frankly bothered her. She could feel his thoughts and emotions in ways that she found distasteful — they were too foreign, too ape-like.

As if that weren't enough, now she was experiencing the same periodic agony that she'd seen him endure since last December, and not even biting someone made **that** misery any easier to bear. Whatever prestige she'd thought she'd be getting by having a master who could actually **speak** like a civilized being, it definitely wasn't worth all this!

* * *

In Hogwarts, a disturbance of dark magic brought elves to the Come and Go room, all of them seeking to identify and contain the source of the problem, but the disturbance didn't last long enough. More and more, the head elf was leaning towards setting up a permanent, rotating watch.

In Little Hangleton, a ring hidden under the floorboards of a decrepit old shack shook violently and released a burst of dark magic which made the wooden boards buckle.

In Gringotts, one of the high-security vaults experienced a burst of dark magic which caused a large number of the magically enchanted items stored within to be disturbed.

In all three of these incidents, no one was around to hear a diadem, ring, or cup scream.

* * *

 **Monday, September 20, 1995, Early Morning.**

Vaultmaster Ripsaw watched patiently as Nailtooth and his team moved with well-honed precision through the Lestrange vault, bypassing the extra defenses put in place by the Lestrange family so the goblin inspectors could sift through all of the coins and magical items. Late last night the special dark magic detectors which Nailtooth himself had recommended be used had started going off, and all of them pointed right at this vault as being the source.

Unfortunately they hadn't been able to get it open in time before the detectors went silent, so they sealed it back up until a full team plus curse breakers could be organized for this morning. _It wouldn't do to tackle this problem too hastily_ , Ripsaw had concluded. _We know where the problem is now, and we have the resources to deal with it; we just need to approach the problem correctly so we can solve it without unnecessary loss of life or gold._

Ripsaw was glad now that he had forwarded Nailtooth's recommendation about the dark magic detectors. It hadn't been easy to implement, given that they'd had to relocate a guard dragon, but in the end he'd been proven right that this was the only way to reliably trace the dark magic to its source. _He and his team will all get nice bonuses and a promotion out of this, regardless of what happens_ , Ripsaw thought. _And, if it turns out especially well, I may get a bonus and promotion, too._

Bit by bit, piece by piece, the collection of suspect items grew. It hadn't surprised anyone to learn that the Lestranges were storing so many dark magical items in their vault, despite the restrictions placed on such storage by Gringotts. Even so, the collection grew to an impressive size by the time they were done. After a cautious preliminary inspection, Ripsaw noted that quite a few of the items might be Black family heirlooms, which would create complications for another job which had been scheduled to be started there that day.

Ripsaw sighed impatiently and wondered why nothing could ever be easy.

* * *

 **Tuesday, September 21, 1995, Afternoon.**

Sirius was considering checking in on Uncle Cygnus to see if he had anything to report yet when Kreacher popped in with an unexpected letter from Gringotts. Apparently, before the goblins could go through the Lestrange vault to remove Black family heirlooms and recover Bellatrix's dowry, their dark magic detectors had gone off, alerting them to proscribed dark magic items being stored in the vault. According to the report, the magic involved could not be identified except as being highly volatile and dangerous, which was why Gringotts was taking such a hard line.

A search had been performed and all suspect items removed to a separate containment vault for inspection. Among them were items believed to be Black family heirlooms, too. Since Sirius had not yet taken back possession of them, he wasn't going to be fined or otherwise held accountable, but they did want to let him know in case he wished to pay to have proscribed enchantments or other magics removed from the items; otherwise he could simply take them as-is. Sirius doubted that he'd care enough to pay for something like that, and he wasn't sure he wanted any of it at all, but he decided to let his mother see the list, just in case — she might have some insight into what set off the goblin detectors.

As an added bonus, since the magic involved was contrary to Gringotts policy, the Lestrange vault would end up taking an even bigger hit than before, and he suspected that little tidbit might brighten her day.


	19. Forever Autumn

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

If you haven't already, I hope you'll check out my "Harry Potter Story Fluffle," a collection of story ideas which may or may not become full stories in the future.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Escape" by Singularoddities. This is a marriage law fic in which Hermione refuses to submit to unjust laws! Caught between being sold off to Draco Malfoy or forced into marrying Snape to help him spy, Hermione chooses to run. Harry, unsurprisingly, runs with her, leaving both Voldemort and Dumbledore furious. I prefer to recommend finished fics, but this one is being updated at a good clip and has a number of good features. In addition to Hermione refusing to just go along with a stupid marriage law, Snape is both snarky and sympathetic (not easy to achieve), and the Granger parents are great.

* * *

 **Chapter 19 - Forever Autumn**

 **Wednesday, September 22, 1995, 6:15 PM.**

Getting down to the Forbidden Forest was not easy — not without the presence of the Beauxbatons carriage to provide cover, and especially not with the Pink Toad Lady stalking the corridors. It was only the involvement of three members of the staff which made it possible: Minerva and Fleur, who were going to participate in the Autumnal Equinox ritual themselves, and Flitwick, who had been told about the rituals so he could help.

All three professors gave detentions to three different witches in the study group to provide an excuse in case anyone noticed their absence. In small groups the girls were disillusioned and sent to meet at a predetermined spot just inside the forest. There the nine students and two professors found several visitors waiting for them.

"Fleur, you didn't say that your family was coming!" Hermione exclaimed as she started exchanging hugs with Apolline and Sybine.

"You didn't zink that I was going to handle the entire ritual myself, did you?" Fleur asked with a wry smile. "Even if I knew everything necessary, zere is too much for one person."

"Did you have any trouble getting here?" McGonagall asked. "You don't have the extra carriages to provide a cover."

"It was not a problem," Apolline reassured her. "Last time we needed the cover because of how many visitors we brought. This time the group is small, so we simply used muggle transportation."

"Phoebe! Areto!" Hermione cried out when she saw the two Amazzi standing at the edge of the group. As she approached, she noticed how much they had changed. "You're both starting to show! That's so cool!" She reached out, then stopped and looked at them both. "May I... I mean, is it alright if I, uh, touch?"

Phoebe smiled. "Of course, Hermione. We believe that it's because of you and Jasmine that this was possible." Hermione reached out to touch the bellies of the two mothers-to-be, and Jasmine approached to do the same.

"Zat is Areto and Phoebe," Fleur explained to the other Hogwarts witches as they all started getting changed into thin, brown shifts. "Zey both got pregnant during ze Beltane ritual last term."

"And any children conceived during Beltane are believed to be blessed," Padma continued. When the others looked at her, she said, "What? I wanted to know more about these holiday rituals and read all I could. It wasn't much, unfortunately, but there were a few interesting details."

"Who are the fathers?" Susan asked curiously.

"There are no fathers," Apolline answered. "Veela do not need males to conceive children. Phoebe and Areto are a couple, and they are equally the parents of both their children." She watched the girls' eyes go wide as they digested that, then she added, "That is a veela secret, though, so please do not tell anyone." They all nodded in agreement, now even more curious about Beltane and the veela.

While the study group members kept stealing glances at the two pregnant veela, wondering how that worked, Jasmine and Hermione kept stealing glances at their friends, trying to gauge their reaction to meeting two witches who not only had a romantic and sexual relationship, but were actually pregnant. They hoped they might get some clues about whether they could tell the others about themselves any time soon.

Once everyone was changed — a process that was a bit uncomfortable for some, since it involved stripping nude in the presence of both strangers and one of their older professors — the group made their way through the forest to the ritual circle. All around they could see the earliest hints of green leaves starting to turn yellow and red. In the shadows, they could occasionally see the forms of large centaurs who had come to guard the circle.

"I think the forest is looking even better than it did on Midsummer's Eve," Hannah noted.

Daphne agreed. "I don't think it qualifies as 'forbidden' anymore, though the Headmaster called it that during the opening feast. I wonder if he's even been out here to see what's happening."

"Probably not," Jasmine said a little bitterly. "It's not like he usually checks on things he's responsible for."

* * *

 **Wednesday, September 22, 1995, 6:50 PM.**

When they arrived at the circle, they found that instead of a bonfire there was a simple altar in the center. On either side was a small statue of a goddess and a candle bedecked with flowers. They were informed that the left statue was Demeter, and the right was her daughter, Persephone.

Once they entered and made a half-circle in front of the altar, they were each given a chalice of moon cider to drink while Apolline addressed them. "Welcome, sisters, to our Autumnal Equinox celebration. Our earlier rituals this past year celebrated the triumph of the light over the dark and of life over death, but today we mark the point when the pendulum begins to swing in the other direction. This ceremony marks the time when the nights begin to grow longer than the days, when life around us begins to go dormant, and when the chill of age starts settling in.

"Yet this is not a time for despair, for we know that the light will return. It is not a time for sadness, but rather of thanksgiving for the bounty that the goddesses have provided. Thus do we honor their many blessings."

Apolline turned to the altar, lit the candle on the right, and called out, "Hear me, Persephone! Hear me, Mistress, Maiden, and Protector! You tended the forests and fields, but now you have been taken by force to become Hades' queen. Stolen from the light and life above, you must languish in the underworld while we grieve for your absence." The candle's flame grew momentarily, and a large cloud of purple-black smoke exploded out of it, rising into the sky. Meanwhile, around the feet of the witches who were watching, magic began to gather and swirl.

Apolline then lit the candle on the left and continued, "Hear me, Demeter! Hear me, Mistress, Mother, and Legislator! Where your daughter tended the wild plants, you brought us the domestication of our crops. Where your daughter was forcibly taken against all laws, you taught us the sacred laws so that we, too, could mature in wisdom. We grieve that your daughter has been taken and we accept that, in your pain as a mother, you leave darkness and death in your wake as you search for her."

Demeter's flame grew momentarily as a large, reddish-yellow cloud of smoke exploded out of it, rising up to meet the first which still hung above the ritual circle. Even more magic began to swirl around the witches' feet along with colored motes of concentrated magical energy. The motes were thickest around the feet of Jasmine and Hermione, and their friends couldn't help but notice.

Apolline then turned back to the assembled witches and said, "Demeter's search for her daughter creates several months of darkness, lit by naught but a torch provided by Hekate. As much as we might wish that the darkness did not come, we must honor it and Demeter's grief because it reminds us of the importance of balance in our lives."

She moved a few steps towards the half-circle of women and said, "Everyone close your eyes and tilt your heads back. Feel how your body is in balance, just as the earth itself is now coming into balance with equal hours of daylight and night. Raise your arms out to your sides — feel how you are forced to adjust your body to stay in balance. We do this every day: make small, subtle changes to maintain balance in our lives. If we don't, we stumble and fall; but of course, that's why we all need our sisters to help us get back up and return to the path."

* * *

 **Wednesday, September 22, 1995, 7:15 PM.**

Abruptly the shadows in the circle grew long and the light from the sky went dim, leaving the two candles as the primary source of light. Apolline spun around, threw her hands up in the sky, and cried, "Hekate, Great Mother! Hekate, Dark Mother! Hekate Soteria, bringer of Light and Destruction, Keeper of the Gateway, we submit to you and to the eternal cycle you bring forth." Apolline dropped to her knees in front of the altar, and the other veela in attendance quickly followed suit.

Jasmine and Hermione looked around and, not knowing what else to do, also dropped to their knees, and their friends from Hogwarts soon followed their lead. Once everyone was on their knees, the flames of both candles grew, casting eerie, flickering shadows all around the circle. At the same time, the magic around their feet and in their bodies surged towards the altar, feeding the flames and causing them to grow ever higher.

Each of the witches felt a pull on their magic as more and more power was fed into the central altar — so much power that the eyes of the statues of the goddesses glowed, and a deep thrumming filled the forest. Just then, a figure wearing a black cloak and carrying a large scythe slowly walked into the circle. The voice which came from the figure was deep, but several of those on their knees were able to recognize it as belonging to Sybine.

"Light requires the dark," she chanted. "Day requires night. Life requires death. Bounty... requires a harvest."

By the time she said the last, she was facing the half-circle of kneeling witches, standing between them and the altar. "That's what tonight is about: the harvest in all its myriad forms. The plants are nourished so that they may grow, then cut down so that we may be nourished and grow ourselves. Eventually we, too, must die so that our bodies and magic can return to the earth and begin the cycle anew. Life requires death, and death requires life."

Sybine, serving as the representative of Hekate and the Crone, lowered the hood on her black cloak and continued, "When we harvest the bounty that we have planted, we are reaping what we have sown. Just as balance is maintained when we harvest the plants we need to keep us alive, balance is also maintained when the things we do to others rebound, whether for good or for ill. Let us all judge and be judged by our actions. May kindness be repaid with good fortune. May evil be repaid with pain. May oath-breaking be repaid... with _death_."

As energy kept surging in towards the altar, more than one of the witches began to sway slightly as they grew lightheaded from the drain on their magic. Luna, Ginny, and Gabrielle, the youngest present, were having the most trouble staying upright. Then, as if she suddenly remembered something, Luna held her hands out to her sides and used them to help her find her balance. Soon she was followed not just by Ginny and Gabrielle, but the rest of the witches, all of whom had started to sway by that point.

"That you might remember this," Sybine said loudly, raising her hand in front of her, "we ask that Hekate Soteria, the Dark Mother, bless us this night. We ask that the Mistress of Magic enhance and multiply the magic which we sacrifice for our coven. We ask the Guardian of Witches to lift us up and strike down our enemies!"

With those last words, Sybine slashed down her hand in a striking motion, and all the magic that had collected in the altar exploded out into the gathered witches and beyond into the wider forest. Because it had indeed been enhanced and multiplied, far more magical energy flew out of the altar than had entered it, and the witches who were on the verge of collapse from magical exhaustion were suddenly energized well beyond anything they had ever experienced before.

It was more than some could handle, and while most simply bent forward over their knees in order to catch their breath, a few collapsed. Gabrielle was one of these — Jasmine looked over to see that the young girl had fallen on her side and wasn't moving.

Ignoring the odd sensations that were coursing through her body, Jasmine crawled to her friend and rolled her onto her back. She cast a silent, wandless Lumos with her left hand so she could see while using her other hand to push Gabrielle's long, blonde locks away from her face.

"Gabrielle?" Jasmine asked softly, not noticing that several more of the witches had gathered around them. "Gabrielle?" she asked again, gently patting her cheek.

Suddenly Gabrielle's eyes opened and she blinked in confusion, eventually focusing on Jasmine's face. "Are you alright?" Jasmine asked. When Gabrielle nodded, the others moved away as Jasmine stood and offered the younger witch her right hand to help her stand.

Once she was upright, Gabrielle didn't let go; instead, she pulled herself closer and looked deep into Jasmine's green eyes for a moment before whispering in French, "Hekate walks among us. Bearing a light in one hand and destruction in the other, she comes to raise up the faithful while striking down the corrupt. The Savior of Witches has come for _me_ , so that I might serve at her right hand as her sword and shield." She then squeezed Jasmine's hand before stepping away to reassure her family that she was alright.

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked as she came up from behind.

"No idea," Jasmine replied with a shrug. "She said something in French. I caught 'Hekate,' so I guess she was talking about how intense that ritual was."

"So intense that it knocked some of us over," Hermione observed. "That was incredible, but I'm not sure I'd want to do it often."

"Good thing it's only once a year, then," Jasmine said.

"Indeed," said Minerva softly as she approached them out of the dark. "I witnessed several Autumnal Equinox rituals in my home village when I was a wee lass, and I never saw anything like what I experienced here tonight. The Midsummer's Eve ritual was similarly powerful and unusual, and while I didn't say anything about it at the time, I think I can conclusively say now that the reason is the two of you."

"Why are they making such a big difference?" Daphne asked, and Jasmine realized that the other Hogwarts students had come up around them.

Hermione hadn't noticed and was instead biting her lip in thought. "I guess that makes sense," she finally said. "I mean, what with our power growth and everything. Jasmine and I have a lot more magic to give, so it's multiplied that much more."

"So you **are** a lot more powerful than the rest of us!" Padma exclaimed, causing Hermione to look around and realize that they had acquired an audience. Minerva just shook her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Susan's eyes narrowed. "Do you know why you're so much more powerful?"

"Uh, well..." Jasmine said, quite at a loss for words. "Maybe. Sort of. But it's rather personal."

Susan looked dubiously at each in turn. Finally she said, "OK, I guess I'll have to accept that. Just promise me that you aren't doing anything dark, like performing rituals where you sacrifice babies or something."

" **What?** " Hermione blurted out. "I've never... how could you even think...?!"

Susan raised a hand to forestall further protest. "It's not that I actually think you're doing such things. Or even could. It's just that the only means I know of to increase your power like that are pretty dark, and I'd feel better hearing it from you directly."

Hermione huffed softly while Jasmine said, "If it's that important, then fine. The only dark ritual I've ever been in was the one in which I was an unwilling participant at the resurrection of Voldemort. Otherwise, neither Hermione nor I have ever knowingly taken part in anything like that."

"Thanks," Susan said, apparently satisfied. "I'm sorry I had to ask, but I guess it's my auntie's influence. She's always stressed the importance of having someone say directly what they mean. It avoids misunderstandings."

"We should all start heading back," Fleur announced. "It will be curfew soon, and we still have a chance to slip into ze castle unnoticed."

Everyone chatted quietly as they hiked back through the forest. Although they all felt energized and powerful, it was a quiet kind of power — the kind that made them want to be still and drink it all in rather than charge around burning off the excess.

As Apolline explained it, while they might be full of magical energy, that energy was a blend of magic donated by all of them, then enhanced by the goddesses. It was therefore both familiar and alien at the same time, and their bodies wanted a chance to rest and integrate that energy back into their own. Apolline said that the veela had recently discovered that after such powerful rituals, resting was a good idea. The more fully the magic could be reincorporated, the longer the positive effects of the ritual would dwell within them.

Suddenly, just as they reached the spot where they'd left their clothing, they heard Daphne exclaim, "Tracey, would you stop playing with your boobs! They aren't going to grow that fast anyway!"

* * *

 **Wednesday, September 22, 1995, Late Night.**

Jasmine and Hermione had their Astronomy class on Wednesdays, but instead of heading up to the Astronomy Tower, they held each other in Jasmine's bed, pleased to now better understand why they'd felt this way after every ritual. They weren't talking, they weren't sleeping, and they weren't even snogging — they were just lying there with their eyes closed, resting as their bodies integrated the blended magic back into their own.

Similar scenes were playing out elsewhere in Hogwarts, though only Padma was also missing Astronomy. Despite not being couples, Daphne and Tracey as well as Susan and Hannah also shared beds, finding themselves drawn together by a desire for physical closeness that could only be satisfied by a very, very long hug.

* * *

In Diagon Alley, Gringotts was in full lockdown with every goblin, from the lowliest cart driver right up through Branch Supervisor Earchewer, decked out in full battle armor, and most were waiting at their emergency stations. This emergency hadn't been called because of any threat of attack from the outside, but rather due to one of their own high-security vaults suddenly **exploding**.

"Thank the Goddess no one was injured," War Chief Sharpaxe commented as he and Earchewer watched the inspection and cleanup crew work.

"It would have been much worse if this had happened during the day shift," Earchewer responded. "Six hours ago we had a full inspection team here going through the items in this vault." A loud crash came from behind them, and Earchewer turned around to see that another team had finally freed the vault door, which had become embedded in the rock wall across from the vault. Turning back, he went on, "None of them would have survived."

"Why were these items being inspected?" Sharpaxe asked, his voice full of suspicion.

"For months now we've been getting indications of dark magic from one of the vaults on the lowest level, but it always stopped too quickly to pinpoint. A likely vault was finally identified, and not too long ago, I ordered the guard dragon removed so dark magic detectors could be placed around it. A couple of days ago we got a new, strong reading — strong enough to allow us to open the vault and search for proscribed items."

"I take it you found some, then. Why were they being stored here instead of immediately destroyed?"

"Family complications," Earchewer said. "The owner of that vault had just been expelled from their family, which obligated us to reclaim any family heirlooms. Some of the dark items were also probably family heirlooms, so we decided to simply bring everything here where we could sort them out, piece by piece."

Sharpaxe snorted. "I doubt much of it survived, especially since most if not all of it must have helped fuel the magical explosion. It all looks like it's destined for the garbage heap, now. What family was this, anyway?"

"I'm not sure," Earchewer said as he pulled out a booklet and started flipping through the pages. "It's... well now, that's interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"The family is Black," Earchewer answered.

"And why does that matter?"

"Because a few weeks ago I got a request from the head of the Black family for the parchment work that both the Ministry and Gringotts required for him to formally adopt his goddaughter." Earchewer paused as Sharpaxe looked expectantly at him. "Jasmine Dorea Potter," he finished.

Sharpaxe's eyes widened in surprise. "That might be a coincidence, but we can't take the chance."

Earchewer nodded and called over the team supervisor. "What's your name?"

"Nailtooth, sir!"

"You've been working under Vaultmaster Ripsaw on this, haven't you?" Earchewer asked.

"Yes, sir," Nailtooth responded. "Right from the start."

Earchewer nodded. "I thought I recognized your name — you're the one who recommended that we move the guard dragon. Well, this project just got bumped up in priority. I want every single item in that vault — down to the tiniest scrap, mind you — handled with the utmost care. It all needs to be packed up and inspected by a team of enchanters and curse-breakers. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, because I'm putting you in charge of this now, Special Project Leader Nailtooth. This is your responsibility. If you need anything, or if anyone gives you any trouble, come to me. Understand?

"Yes, sir!" Nailtooth was practically beaming with pride.

"Oh, and Nailtooth?" the Branch Supervisor asked before the newly-promoted goblin could return to work.

"Sir?"

"Do you know who this is standing next to me?" Earchewer asked casually.

"Y-yes, sir, War Chief Sharpaxe. From the Goblin High Council, s-sir."

"And do you know whom he represents here? Beyond the Bet Bel, I mean," Earchewer asked, still sounding casual.

"Th-the _Queen_ ," Nailtooth whispered reverently.

"Well, he's not here sightseeing," Earchewer said. "He's here in London on special business — business that includes taking a personal interest in this very project. I trust you understand the importance of that?"

By now Nailtooth had lost the power of speech and could only nod vehemently.

"Very good. _**Now get back to work!**_ _"_ he bellowed. Nailtooth scrambled through the debris and back into the vault. Everyone could hear him shouting orders, and it made most of them nervous. Sharpaxe, though, just chuckled, pleased to see that Earchewer had gotten his sense of humor reimplanted.

* * *

 **Thursday, September 23, 1995, Noon.**

"I learned this morning that the two of you still think that you are above the rules. That you think you can get away with anything. Well, it's high time for that to change."

Jasmine and Hermione turned from their lunches and found Umbridge standing behind them, a horrible smile cutting across her face.

"Huh?" Jasmine asked intelligently.

"This morning I checked the records and discovered that neither of you attended your Astronomy class last night," Umbridge explained. "I asked Professor Sinestra and she confirmed it, too. That's a serious violation of the rules for both of you."

"I, uh, I wasn't feeling very good," Jasmine hastened to say, her stomach sinking at the realization that they'd both been caught in a genuine violation of the rules which neither could explain.

"Neither was I," Hermione added.

"And were either of you in the hospital wing, by any chance?" Umbridge asked sweetly.

"Uh, no," Jasmine answered. "I didn't feel quite that bad, and it was late..."

"Of course you didn't," Umbridge interrupted her, not waiting for Hermione to answer. "It's a good thing you didn't lie, because I already checked on that. Without a signed note from the school Healer, claiming to have been sick is not a legitimate excuse for missing class."

"But... but..." Jasmine tried to argue.

"Tut, tut, the rules must be followed," Umbridge said. "You will both have detention with me for a week, starting tonight."

"But..." Hermione stammered.

Umbridge, though, wasn't paying any attention and simply toddled off, humming a happy tune to herself.

Both girls looked to Padma over at the Ravenclaw table, wondering why she hadn't been given a detention as well despite having missed the same class.

"Zat horrid, horrid witch!" Gabrielle hissed, glaring daggers at Umbridge as the woman exited the Great Hall.

"You need to be careful," Luna said, sounding oddly coherent for once. "Something isn't quite right about her. In the head, I mean." Everyone at the Gryffindor table started whispering while Parvati got up to tell her sister, thus ensuring that the story would spread through the rest of Hogwarts before the first afternoon class even started.

When Jasmine and Hermione looked up at the staff table, neither McGonagall nor Dumbledore were there, so there was no one to ask for help — not that they could realistically expect it anyway.

* * *

 **Thursday, September 23, 1995, Evening.**

Hermione and Jasmine approached Umbridge's door with a great deal of trepidation, but they knew that whatever waited for them on the other side, they would just have to deal with it. Hermione reached out to grasp Jasmine's hand and give it a squeeze before knocking. "Come in!" came the response, and upon opening the door the two witches were assaulted with an absolute riot of pink. Pink chairs, pink drapes, pink decorations, pink doilies — _everything_ pink. On top of that were portraits of kittens on every wall — dozens and dozens of plates, each with a picture of a cute, mewling kitten.

"Right on time," Umbridge said, either ignoring or simply not noticing the expressions of abject horror on the faces of the girls. "Sit right over here," she continued, gesturing to two small desks that had somehow been squeezed into her tiny office. Hermione and Jasmine walked over and sat completely on autopilot, their brains not yet recovered from the horrid sights surrounding them. Umbridge placed a quill and a sheaf of parchment on each desk, then returned to her own desk to sit down.

"You will both be writing lines for me. Miss Potter will write 'I must not tell lies' while Miss Granger will write 'I must respect my betters.' Maybe this will help you learn proper behavior for witches."

"We don't have any ink," Hermione protested.

"You won't need any," Umbridge responded with an especially wide smile. "Those are special quills."

"How many times do we have to do this?" Jasmine asked.

"Oh, until it sinks in, I think," Umbridge said. "So you'd better get started."

Both younger witches picked up their quills and began to write. Shortly after they started to form the brownish words, they each felt an itching sensation on the backs of their hands. Both of them grimaced and looked at their hands in confusion, then continued to write and grimaced even more as the itching grew worse and started edging into pain. Almost immediately, though, the itching and pain stopped, allowing Jasmine and Hermione to start writing much more quickly.

Umbridge's broad, gleeful smile faltered at about the same time and just as abruptly. Neither of the girls noticed when Umbridge began to scratch at the backs of her hands, and they didn't pay any attention to her gasp of horror when she looked down and saw angry, red lines being cut into her flesh. They did, however, take notice when she jumped up out of her chair and screamed as the angry lines became deep gouges and blood sprayed across her pink desk.

"Get out!" she shrieked. "Get out, you horrible little brats!"

Jasmine and Hermione didn't bother asking questions, they simply ran out the door, not even stopping to close it behind them. They hadn't gone far before Jasmine asked, "Do you think we should tell Professor McGonagall?"

Hermione nodded. "We didn't even get a chance to tell her that we got any detention at all. I think she'll want to hear about this."

Their Transfiguration professor was surprised to see them and upset to learn that they had received a week's worth of detentions. She had to apologize for not having thought to alter the attendance records somehow, but it hadn't occurred to any of them that Umbridge would be monitoring them to find something she could use.

It was when they explained what their detention was like, however, that McGonagall was truly appalled. "Let me see your left hands," she ordered, carefully examining them. "Yes, I can see faint lines. I suspect that she was having you use a blood quill, a special type of quill that's only supposed to be used for contracts and other legal documents."

"What's so special about it?" Hermione asked.

"It does what its name implies," McGonagall explained. "It writes in blood, not ink — your blood, to be specific. The red scratches are from the magic of the quill drawing blood out of your hand. It's fine for signing documents, but if you were to keep writing with one, it would eventually cut open your hand, leaving horrible scars."

"She... she was trying to do that to us?" Jasmine asked, horrified. "She was trying to torture us?"

"I think so," McGonagall said with a scowl, "but we'd have to search her office for proof, and I doubt that the DMLE would accept your word as sufficient. Then there's the question of what happened to her. It sounds like _her_ hands were being used as the source for the blood, but that shouldn't have happened."

"Could something have caused her to become bound to the quills?" Hermione asked.

McGonagall thought about that for a moment, then answered, "I really don't see how. Even so, it should have only scratched her — it shouldn't have opened up cuts on her until you had written several hundred lines!"

"Bound?" Jasmine said suddenly. "Maybe it's not that magic caused the quills to be bound to her, but rather to **re** bound to her?"

"Rebound?" McGonagall repeated, then her eyes lit up. "You're talking about the ceremony last night?"

Jasmine nodded. "Maybe it wasn't just metaphorical? Maybe the ritual created the conditions for things to literally rebound — for evil done to us to rebound to those who are trying to do us harm, at least for as long as the magic of the ritual persists in us?"

Both Hermione and McGonagall looked thoughtful at this theory, wondering how powerful the magic would need to be in order for it to happen.

"Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about it right now," McGonagall finally said. "If we get more evidence, maybe we can do a search of her room. For now, though, she's too well protected by the Ministry. Once again, keep your heads down and avoid her if you can."

Both Gryffindors nodded fervently and hurried back to their common room to work on their assignments.

* * *

 **Friday, September 24, 1995, Late Morning.**

Hermione and Jasmine were surprised to see Umbridge inspecting their Defense class the next day — and with heavily bandaged hands, too. Fleur had mentioned during the walk to the ritual that her class had yet to be evaluated and that as far as she knew, she was the only professor not to have received any inspections. Umbridge visiting now, right after their bizarre detention, struck them as a bit too odd to be completely coincidental, but they couldn't think of what her reasoning might be.

Knowing Fleur as they did, they could tell that she was a bit more nervous than usual, but she hid it well. About half way through the class, while she had the students running through practical work on spellcasting, they could hear Umbridge question Fleur about her qualifications.

"How exactly did you get this job, anyway?" Umbridge asked, her hostility barely hidden.

"I came to Britain looking for work and happened to meet with Professor Dumbledore," Fleur answered. "We talked, he asked about my grades and goals, and ze next day he offered me ze job."

"So you didn't seek him out, and he didn't seek you out? This wasn't arranged last term, before you went back to France?" Umbridge pressed.

"No, not at all," Fleur replied, obviously confused about where this was going. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just trying to figure out how and why a... girl like you, barely out of school, could be chosen for such a prestigious job over a more deserving, pureblood English witch."

"You mean, like you?" Fleur asked, finally seeing the point of all the questions.

"Of course," Umbridge declared. "As a pureblood English witch who is completely human, I am far more qualified to teach anything at all to English witches and wizards." By this point, the class had given up on trying to surreptitiously listen in while doing their work and were just blatantly staring at the exchange.

"I received mostly Os on my NEWT exams in France," Fleur declared, "and zat was in addition to doing ze Triwizard Tournament last year — a tournament I shared victory in, by ze way. My score for my NEWT in Defense was an O. What was yours?"

"I... I..." Umbridge seemed to be having trouble answering the question. Finally, she declared, "I received an Acceptable, but that was only because my father knew someone in the Education department who owed him a favor, and they bumped up my grades by one level across the board." Umbridge slapped her hand over her mouth, horrified. Fleur herself was wide-eyed and unsure how to respond.

The first vocal reaction came from neither of the adults; instead, it came from Tracey, who first snorted loudly, then turned away in an attempt to hold in her guffaws.

"Shut up!" Umbridge yelled. "Shut up, you nasty little witch! Do you think you're better? Your family probably bribed the Ministry for false records declaring them to be purebloods just like my father did!" Once again, Umbridge slapped her hand over her mouth, but instead of staying and risking another outburst, she ran out of the Defense classroom while the entire class just gaped at her retreating pink back, completely at a loss for words.

Except for Tracey, who laughed even louder.

* * *

Umbridge wasn't seen for the rest of the day.

At dinner, Professor McGonagall stopped by the Gryffindor table to tell Hermione and Jasmine that the rest of their week's worth of detentions would be done with her. Apparently, Umbridge was "indisposed" and would be unable to fulfill her responsibilities for the next few days. McGonagall had, of course, heard the story of what happened in Defense just like everyone else in the school, which probably explained the wide smirk on her face when she delivered that bit of news.


	20. Eye of the Tiger

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Weary Wizard" by Yunaine. Completely disgusted with the attitudes of so many wizards and witches — especially those in Hogwarts — Harry decides against teaching the Defense Association. Hermione reluctantly agrees, then learns that the situation is even worse than she had realized. H/Hr.

* * *

 **Chapter 20 - Eye of the Tiger**

 **Saturday, September 26, 1995, Afternoon.**

Jasmine and Hermione had been eager for their first session with Professor Flitwick, and not just for the sake of training. Even before they'd left Professor McGonagall's office, they revealed to him the secret of their soul bond. They weren't lucky enough to catch him while he was drinking something, but they would have felt bad if they'd kept delaying it. Like McGonagall, he congratulated them both and promised to help them where he could.

Once they arrived at the training area, Flitwick tested them on their use of the previous spells they'd learned under his tutelage rather than starting right out with new spells. He even made a point of using simulated combat conditions by conjuring pigs which were supposed to substitute for Death Eaters. The pigs didn't fight back, but they did run around, then bleed and cry out when they were hit, thus replicating some of the conditions of a real fight. It was disturbing, to say the least, but now that they had both been in real fights, they understood the value of learning how to cast under such conditions, however unpleasant.

Outwardly Flitwick looked as calm and matter-of-fact as ever as he watched his students, but they could tell by the grim set of his jaw that he wasn't enjoying this necessity any more than they were.

"Remember," Flitwick said as they wrapped up as dinner approached, "the more you train, the more automatic your moves will be. Being even a fraction of a second faster than your opponent can mean the difference between life and death. So can casting with just a bit more accuracy or power. Since you'll likely be fighting enemies who have decades more experience than you do, you'll need every edge you can get."

Both girls nodded. Last term when he gave speeches like this, they'd believed him, of course, but it lacked a certain immediacy for them. Now, though, the truth of his words was all too vividly apparent.

Before they finally left, Jasmine made the mistake of asking, "Professor Flitwick, how come you decided not to train us by dueling against us yourself?" Hermione didn't recognize the nature of the mistake any more than Jasmine did, though both became aware that something was amiss when they saw the feral grin that spread across Flitwick's face.

"Think you're ready to face me, do you?" the diminutive professor asked. "Fine, we'll try a duel: both of you against me. In light of how hard I've already worked you, I promise to go easy on you both. Let's say... I'll just limit myself to the sorts of spells either taught during the first four years of Hogwarts or which are easily cast by fourth-year students, even if the spell isn't explicitly taught. You, of course, will be free to cast any spell you wish."

"Any spell?" Hermione asked, somewhat taken aback. Flitwick merely nodded, then walked a short distance away, where he took up a defensive dueling stance.

"Whenever you two are ready," he called out.

Hermione and Jasmine looked at each other briefly, then separated a bit and adopted similar stances. No one had tried to teach them anything about actual dueling since the Lockhart fiasco, but they knew Flitwick was a dueling master and figured it was best to imitate him. He nodded in approval, then said, "I'll count down from three to zero; on zero, we'll begin."

"Three." Both witches tightened their grips on their wands.

"Two." Jasmine shifted her foot slightly to get better traction against the rocky ground.

"One." Hermione bent down a little lower to provide a smaller target.

"Zero."

When Flitwick revived the two witches, they found that they'd been stunned and bound. Jasmine had been given a duck's bill and antlers, while Hermione had flippers and was covered in yellow feathers.

"I'm impressed," Flitwick told them with every appearance of sincerity as he dispelled all the jinxes he'd cast on them. "I think you two lasted nearly five seconds. The duel would have been shorter, but you both dodged rather effectively, and your well-aimed spells forced me to move three times."

Jasmine and Hermione could only gape in shock as they got to their feet. "Do either of you still think you'd like to train against me?" Both shook their heads vehemently, wondering just how much work they'd have to put in before they could even begin to be a challenge for him.

"Well, keep up the practice," he said with a barely-hidden giggle. "Maybe we'll do this once a month or so to see how you're improving!"

* * *

 **Sunday, September 26, 1995, Late Morning.**

Jasmine wiped the sweat from her brow as she leaned back against the wall of the workout room and observed the activity around her. Fleur was supervising Padma, Tracey and Daphne in dodging exercises; like so many purebloods in Britain, they had been taught to disregard "muggle" tactics, which included dodging spells. Jasmine had been helping, but now she stopped for a quick break.

Hermione was showing Neville, Susan, and Hannah how to cast silently, a skill normally not taught until sixth year. Gabrielle was supervising Blaise, Ginny, and Luna in accuracy practice. Despite Gabrielle's physical and magical power, she still had trouble getting older witches to take her seriously, but fortunately Blaise seemed to be more accepting of her.

From what Jasmine could see, the witches were doing not merely well, but exceptionally well. They had already been progressing faster than normal for their years, but this weekend they were pushing beyond that — and Jasmine suspected that the Autumnal Equinox ritual had something to do with it. Of the two wizards, Neville was keeping up with them the best, probably because of the extra training they had done with him during the last term.

As she looked more closely, she realized that the witches already seemed a little fitter than they had the previous weekend — a difference that was apparent because Hermione had finally convinced everyone that it was much, much easier to work out in close-fitting muggle exercise clothing than in loose, billowy robes.

And Jasmine wasn't entirely sure what to think about the rapid development. _There's no denying the value of physical and magical fitness_ , she considered, _but are we growing up too fast? Shouldn't the others be able to enjoy being kids for a while longer?_

Abruptly she shook her head to banish such notions. _I'm beginning to sound like Dumbledore,_ she thought ruefully.

Just then, she noticed that Ginny was getting frustrated with her accuracy. Jasmine took a quick swig of water, then pushed off from the stone wall and headed over to work with Gabrielle.

"Ginny," Jasmine said as she approached. "There's such a thing as trying too hard. I think you're letting your arm and hand get too stiff as you're casting spells. Imagine if you tried to handle a broom that way — would you find it easy to change direction quickly?"

Ginny had started to bristle at first when Jasmine began her critique, but as soon as she made the comparison to broom riding, something clicked for her.

"Look at Luna," Jasmine continued. "Sometimes she moves like she doesn't have a bone in her body. Now, I wouldn't recommend trying to imitate her unless that sort of movement comes naturally to you, but the point is, she's doing well with accuracy. She doesn't always hit the targets with her _Reducto_ curse, but she hits more often than not by now."

Ginny watched Luna closely for a moment and saw that Jasmine was right. Then she realized that Gabrielle had been trying to tell her the same thing before — she just hadn't used the analogy to broom riding, so Ginny had been dismissing it all. "Sorry, Gabrielle," she mumbled, "I get it now."

Gabrielle just shrugged, unconcerned, but there was renewed determination in her voice when she said, "Now show me what you can hit!"

As Jasmine watched, Ginny resumed her spellcasting and finally started to connect with her targets. As her accuracy improved, so did her confidence, and Jasmine saw the fire in her eyes that she remembered. Ginny was fierce and passionate, bringing a lot of emotion to her spells and making them more effective than average. Turning to Luna, she noticed that while the blonde witch's movements looked relaxed, there was a tension and determination in her expression that Jasmine hadn't ever seen before. She recognized it as similar to the look she'd seen on Hermione's face when she was trying to research something complicated.

Blaise, for his part, was far less free in his movements. As with everything else he did, his spellcasting was careful and controlled, almost as if he were deliberately trying to keep something bottled up. It was a trait Jasmine had noticed more than once during the time she had known him, and she continued to wonder what made the Slytherin wizard tick.

The whole time, Gabrielle kept watching Jasmine, marvelling at how easily she'd gotten Ginny to understand something that she herself had been trying to explain for a while. When Jasmine moved away to see how Hermione was doing, the young veela rededicated herself to pushing the other three in order to help them be the best they could be. "Keep at it!" she said as she waved her wand, causing the moving targets to shrink a little. "Zose are Death Eaters attacking your families! Don't let zem through! Show zem zat you are not helpless little girls! ...And boys!" she amended belatedly. Blaise simply snorted and kept casting.

"How goes it?" Jasmine asked her girlfriend as she watched Neville, Susan, and Hannah repeatedly trying to cast a spell without vocalizing the incantation.

"Pretty well," Hermione answered. "None of them have quite got it, but they can all cast reasonably powered spells while barely whispering. Neville is the closest, but he's had a lot more practice with us."

"How can you call it 'pretty well' when we keep failing?" Susan asked in frustration.

"Hey, you're doing better than we did after this much time," Jasmine pointed out.

Hermione shrugged. "I keep trying to tell them..."

"You took longer to get this far?" Hannah asked, obviously skeptical.

Jasmine nodded. "I'll admit that we weren't pushing as hard as you to get it so quickly, though we were also working on other things at the same time. But still, you are doing better."

"Just keep working on your visualization," Hermione advised. "That's what finally did it for us. We learn about the importance of visualization in Transfiguration, but it's critical in so much more of magic than just that area."

Susan sighed. "You're right, you're right: the clearer the visualization, the better the results. Moody said the same thing — well, except with more threats and shouting. I just keep forgetting because I'm focusing on repeating the words in my head."

Jasmine grinned. "I was doing the exact same thing. Don't worry, you'll get it." She reached out and gave the Hufflepuff witch's shoulder an encouraging squeeze, then flashed her girlfriend a smile before returning to Fleur and the other three.

Previously, Jasmine had been switching between helping Fleur cast stinging hexes at the other three witches, forcing them to dodge, or joining them as Fleur cast hexes at all four. The back-and-forth had forced her to concentrate more, but it had also tired her out faster, thus prompting the break to check on everyone else's progress.

"Faster!" Fleur shouted as a stinging hex hit Padma, causing her to stumble. "If you're too slow, you die!"

Jasmine remembered back to a couple of old war movies she'd caught a few minutes of while at the Dursleys. She'd learned there was someone in the military called a "drill sergeant" whose job was apparently to torture new recruits while training them. None of those drill sergeants had anything on a veela warrior, she was certain.

"You! Get your lazy bum back in line!" Fleur shouted, reinforcing the resemblance. The auburn-haired witch hastily jumped back into line with the other three and resumed dodging practice as Fleur increased the speed at which she was casting — and started throwing in a few bludgeoning hexes as well, just for good measure.

* * *

By the time lunch rolled around, everyone had gone through each of the three training stations twice, and everyone felt exhausted, both physically and magically. At the same time, though, they also felt invigorated because they could all see just how far they had come.

"You're all doing very well," Fleur announced to the group, as if in answer to their thoughts. "Much better zan I would have expected, in fact. Originally I wanted to focus most of my time on Jasmine and Hermione, but if you keep progressing like zis, Gabrielle and I may be able to spend more time with you." Somewhat surprisingly, this was greeted with excitement (however tired) rather than groans. Fleur and Gabrielle were tough and at times even vicious taskmasters, but everyone knew that they wouldn't have made nearly as much progress without their guidance.

No one discussed why Fleur and Gabrielle might be focusing on helping Jasmine and Hermione. The two Gryffindors had told their closest friends about the prophecy involving Voldemort, but they weren't yet ready to share it more widely — not even with the whole study group. The rest knew that there was _something_ they hadn't been told — something more than just a general concern with the return of Voldemort — and were waiting until Jasmine and Hermione were ready to bring them into their confidence.

* * *

 **Sunday, September 26, 1995, Afternoon.**

"Miss Granger," Minerva said once the three witches had all served themselves tea, "I apologize for not having sent a gift for your birthday party last week, but I thought it would be best if I gave this to you in private." The older witch handed over a large, colorful parcel which Hermione eagerly tore into. Minerva's eyes brightened in mirth as she watched the girl start oohing and ahing in pleasure as she examined the large and clearly old books she'd just been given.

"What are they?" Jasmine asked. Even though she wasn't the reader Hermione was, she'd at least learned how to appreciate a good book. She'd also learned that it was a good idea to show appropriate interest in whatever interested her girlfriend. Most importantly, she'd learned not to try to take books that Hermione was currently admiring — not if she wanted to keep her hands attached.

"It's a set of histories of witches," Minerva answered, recognizing that Hermione wouldn't be capable of conversation any time soon. "They are old and were written well before the recent trend to downplay the power and role of witches in magical society. Given not only your interests, but also your... destined path in life, I thought that these books would be both interesting and useful."

"Wow, cool," Jasmine said, and beside her Hermione made an inarticulate noise of agreement, though without looking up. "Where did you get them?"

"They are from the personal collection of Bathilda Bagshot," Minerva answered. Hermione's head shot up as she fixed her professor with a wide-eyed stare. "Yes, these were her books at one time," Minerva continued. "She gave them to me to pass on to you. She sent them with her own gift. Well, it's partly a gift and partly an answer to your request." The older witch reached behind her and brought out a leather folio stuffed with parchment.

"This is a draft of a biography of Professor Dumbledore," she explained, handing it over. "Bathilda has been working on it for decades and doesn't want it released until after his death. According to her, it's an objective, warts-and-all history of things he's done. Or at least it will be once it's complete. She thinks that such a work is necessary for the sake of honesty and proper historiography, but at the same time she respects the Headmaster's achievements enough that she'd rather not tarnish his image while he's still alive. It took her a while to decide whether to let this copy out of her sight, but she understands why you have need of it and trusts that you won't pass it around."

Hermione was like a kitten faced with two shiny balls: she couldn't decide what interested her the most and wanted to pounce in two different directions at the same time. On the one paw she had old, forgotten knowledge that was incredibly relevant to her future. On the other paw, she had an unreleased draft of a book by her favorite author on a subject that was also relevant to her life.

Jasmine smiled in amusement as Hermione's brain seized up and attempted to restart, then she turned back to their Transfiguration professor. "Thanks, Professor McGonagall — Hermione's going to love those books. That reminds me, though: among the stuff she got the other day were two gifts which suggest that somebody might know about our relationship."

"Oh?" Minerva asked, suddenly concerned. "What were they?"

"The first was a muggle course on massage for couples. According to Hermione, it wouldn't be regular massage that simply relaxes the muscles, but, uh, well... _sensual_ massage. The course is designed for, you know, couples who are intimate with each other."

Minerva raised one eyebrow in curiosity. "I see... and who gave this to her?"

"It came from Mr. Weasley, if you can believe it," Jasmine answered. "And he recommended that she take me!"

Now both of Minerva's eyebrows rose — right up to her hairline, in fact. "That _is_ suspicious. Or at least it would be, if it were from anyone else. Despite his job, Arthur's knowledge of the muggle world is... tenuous at best, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, we'd noticed that," Jasmine said dryly. "That's what gives us some hope. The other gift was from Tonks. It was a set of... well, Hermione calls them 'toys for the bedroom.' _Please_ don't ask me to describe them or to give you a list."

"And why did you think this gift implied that she knew about the two of you?"

"Well, Tonks suggested that Hermione use them with her 'mysterious boyfriend,'" Jasmine responded, "but between the scare quotes and some other things she said, it sounded a lot like she might know that there's no boyfriend."

Minerva hummed in understanding as she took a sip of tea. "That is suspicious, but Nymphadora is known for those sorts of jokes. _Well_ known," she added with a glance heavenward. "Once again, I don't think there is reason to panic."

"Oh, we're not panicked. Not yet, at least," Jasmine said, glancing over to see that Hermione was completely engrossed in the stack of parchment she'd received from Bagshot. "That's why we waited until now to say anything. We were hoping, though, that you might be able to ask some discreet questions to find out why they sent those particular gifts."

"I can do that," Minerva said. "Hopefully there's an innocent explanation, but if they give me more reasons to be suspicious, I will let you know."

"Thanks," Jasmine replied. "That makes us feel better." She looked over at Hermione again and noticed that she was back to the old history books. "Well, it makes _me_ feel better. And I'm sure Hermione will feel better once she rejoins the rest of us." Both Minerva and Jasmine shared a knowing look.

Suddenly Hermione's head popped up out of the book and she opened her mouth to speak.

"Well, you're back early," Jasmine cut in cheerfully.

Hermione shot her a dirty look, then turned back to Minerva. "Do you suppose that I could write to her?" she asked excitedly. "You know, if I have any questions?"

"I don't see why not," Minerva said, obviously trying hard to hide her amusement. "In fact, knowing the sorts of things you tend to ask, I strongly suspect that she would enjoy your questions."

Hermione looked as though she were about to burst. With a bit of a squeak, she put down the book and jumped up to wrap Minerva in a tight hug.

Their professor looked startled at first, but after a moment she returned the hug, patting Hermione's back a little awkwardly. It was clear that she wasn't at all accustomed to physical affection from anyone, much less from her students, and Jasmine felt such a rush of sympathy and warmth for the woman that she got up to join in the hug herself.

She wasn't entirely sure, but she thought she heard Minerva sniff once or twice as they broke apart. She thought it best not to say anything about that.

* * *

 **Monday, September 27, 1995, Evening.**

"Welcome back! How are your girls?" Adrienne said as she greeted Apolline with a hug upon her return to France. The other veela had been travelling for almost a week, taking care of business in Britain after the Autumnal Equinox celebration.

"They are doing quite well," Apolline reported. "Fleur has settled in nicely with teaching. I think Gabrielle is still a bit lonely, but she has friends there and is fitting in better than I feared she would. I am hopeful that she will be able to flourish there. Although..." Apolline hesitated before saying anything more, and Adrienne got the impression that something was amiss.

"What is it?" she asked, concerned.

"It's just that while Gabrielle is doing well," Apolline answered, "I can't help but get the feeling that something is... off about her. She seems unusually focused on those two English witches. And on Jasmine in particular. She is less carefree. More intense."

"Perhaps she is just growing up? Growing into her role? She did spend a lot of time being trained by Areto and Pheobe — that had to have had an effect."

Apolline sighed. "Perhaps you are right. Maybe it's just the mother in me that is worrying about her daughter, but she did have to mature sooner and faster than most. I hope it hasn't affected her negatively."

"So," Adrienne continued as the two of them sat. "What do you have to report?"

"Everything was much as we anticipated," Apolline replied. "The centaurs continue to be helpful. The forest continues to flourish. Hogsmeade is doing remarkably well — its residents are happier and healthier than ever, though they don't seem to have any idea why. Those other witches — the ones who are friends with Jasmine and Hermione — participated in the Autumnal Equinox ritual, and they did quite well. They, too, developed as a result of the Midsummer's Eve ritual a few months ago, and they know it. I expect them to develop further as a consequence of this most recent ritual, too."

"None of them mind, I take it?"

"Not at all. Quite the contrary, they seem taken with the changes and are anxious for more. At the rate they are developing already, they will soon become formidable witches, both magically and physically. Jasmine and Hermione have chosen well when it comes to whom they surround themselves with. I foresee all of those witches making important contributions."

"That's interesting," Adrienne said, looking intrigued. "We should probably check into the backgrounds of them all, just so we know in advance who and what we're dealing with." She paused to make a note about that. "Anything else happen?"

"I was wondering if we should look into holding future rituals in other locations. Not that the forest is a problem, but rather so we can bring the same benefits to more places."

Adrienne thought about that. "That's an interesting idea, but I'm not sure where else it would be possible. There are few all-magical or even mostly magical communities in Britain, and while it would be nice if the others could benefit like Hogsmeade is, we'd have a lot of trouble arranging for a ritual in Diagon Alley or Godric's Hollow."

"True," Apolline conceded, "but someplace like Stonehenge might be worthwhile. There are quite a few ancient stone circles across the island. Many more than in France."

Adrienne nodded. "That's a good idea — assuming, of course, that we can get the muggles out of the way. Many of them continue to revere such places as well." She sat in silent thought for a few more moments before going on, "I had originally expected that they would finish out a full yearly cycle in the forest, which would mean continuing there at least through Yule and possibly Imbolc. However, if the forest is doing as well as you say, then it might be better to start moving the rituals around. I'm not sure why, but..." Adrienne got a far-off look in her eye. "I don't know, it just seems like a good idea now. I'll look into what it would take to use Stonehenge, especially if we have to do it without any official support or sanction."

"Maybe the goblins can help?" Apolline suggested. "They already have a presence in Britain and are experts with wards."

"That might work. I don't know if they'd see that as a violation of their treaty with the British Ministry, but I need to forward them a report about your recent trip anyway. It can't hurt to ask."

"I'll write to Fleur to ask her for suggestions about possible locations. Professor McGonagall, who is proving to be helpful to the young witches, might have some ideas, too. I'll ask them to specifically focus on locations that would spread the effects of the rituals most widely and evenly, if possible."

"Why do you..." Adrienne started, then looked at her friend in surprise. "You want to recreate the conditions that occurred on Beltane, don't you?

"Maybe."

"Apolline!" she scolded. "You know what happens if we interfere with—"

Apolline held up a hand. "You yourself told me before Beltane that if it were going to cause a problem for the prophecy, then all those people who planned on coming wouldn't have made it. And that there was little substantive difference between a few people participating and many hundreds."

"Yes, but—"

"And if we truly recreate the conditions that occurred during Beltane, it will mean asking the goddesses to choose," Apolline went on. "In such a situation, we are not responsible for what the goddesses choose to do — if they pick vessels, whether those two English witches or two others, then that is _their_ decision."

Adrienne blinked, trying to take in her friend's argument. "I... I don't know. It just seems like too much. I mean, Beltane was... was an accident, surely..."

"Do you still think it was an accident that Céleste made those changes?" Apolline asked pointedly. "Changes that just _happened_ to create the conditions to make it easy for the subjects of the most important prophecy in veela history to be filled with the essence of actual goddesses on the night of one of our most important ritual celebrations?" She reached out and took Adrienne's hand in her own. "I don't think you should be frightened. I was scared myself when I first learned what had likely happened at Beltane, but I've since realized that this is a blessing that we should embrace, not a threat we should flee from."

"I... I can't make this decision myself. I'll need to forward it along to the Theledrion."

"I know," Apolline said, handing her a piece of parchment. "I already have my reasons laid out here for you to include. I think they'll agree with me."

Adrienne looked over the parchment for a long moment, then nodded. "Yes, they probably will. But then, it's not their island that you're planning on reshaping, is it?" She looked up again and saw Apolline smiling. "Sweet Morgana," she whispered as comprehension dawned on her. "You don't expect them to stop with Britain, do you?"

* * *

 **Thursday, September 30, 1995, Evening.**

"What is it, my boy?" Dumbledore asked as he sat down, ignoring the glass of firewhiskey which the dark-haired wizard pushed towards him. "My time is especially limited during the week like this. I only came over because you said it was of the utmost importance."

When it became clear that Dumbledore wasn't going to take a sip of his drink immediately, Sirius pushed over a piece of parchment. "I've found another one. Or I should say, the goblins did. Pieces of one, at least."

"One what?" Dumbledore asked as he started reading. Sirius didn't say anything, but he knew when the headmaster got his answer by the look that flashed across his face. "So, Bellatrix Lestrange was given a horcrux for safekeeping," he said softly.

Sirius nodded. "It makes sense, in retrospect. Lucius was given one as well. Do you think that any other members of his inner circle were similarly trusted?"

Dumbledore shook his head as he put down the parchment. "No, I don't think that any were as close to him as those two. That avenue of inquiry, at least, is probably exhausted, which will allow me to focus on other potential leads. Thank you for this." He now took a long sip from the tumbler and, when he put out the small fire that started in his beard, he continued, "Did the goblins have anything else to say about what was in her vault?"

"No, not really," Sirius answered as he sipped some water. "There were lots of dark artifacts that potentially violated their rules on what can and can't be stored in vaults, but when the horcrux exploded, everything they'd set aside for inspection was destroyed. They're blaming Bellatrix, so they plan on reimbursing the Black family based on estimates of the value of items that their brief inspections had identified as likely family heirlooms. It will probably bankrupt the Lestranges entirely." It was hard to keep a note of glee out if his voice.

Dumbledore nodded. He ran his finger down the parchment, rereading some of it. "I see that they think it might have been a small cup or bowl. Interesting. They also don't say specifically that it was a horcrux, just that it was a dark artifact that had at one time been in connection with a soul. They might not know that it was a horcrux."

"I'd like to know why it exploded. I'm lucky that the one stored here didn't explode with so much force — I'd have lost the entire house!"

"Indeed," Dumbledore responded, his mind racing as he examined and discarded possible explanations, each more unlikely than the last. "So little is known about horcruxes, which is frankly a good thing, but that means that we have almost nothing to go on here. Perhaps they were improperly made... but if so, why are they doing all of this now?"

"Could it be related to his new body? Or the ritual he used to get it?"

"Hmm..." Dumbledore mused. "You may have a point." He looked down at the parchment again. "I see that they have a date here. And you have a date for when a horcrux exploded here. I'll do some research to see if there is any connection between them. Maybe that will lead us somewhere."

"I hope so," Sirius said emphatically. "We have no idea how many more there are or where they are, so there's no telling what kind of damage might be caused the next time one of them goes off. And we have no idea when the 'next time' might be! What if one is hidden in the Ministry? Or Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore's eyes widened as certain pieces of a puzzle started coming together.

* * *

 **Friday, October 1, 1995, Late Morning.**

It had been a week since anyone had seen anything of Umbridge. A week of bliss during which Jasmine and Hermione could walk the corridors of Hogwarts without fear that the vile Pink Toad Lady might suddenly pop out of nowhere in an attempt to find fault with them. A week without anyone's classes being "inspected" to determine whether they were sufficiently in line with Ministry policies.

They knew it wouldn't last, but all of the students were determined to enjoy the reprieve as much as possible.

In Defense class, the growing superiority of the study group continued to make itself known. Even Neville and Blaise had clearly become better at spellcasting, shielding, and dodging than anyone else, and they were outshone by all of the witches who had experienced at least one of the magical ritual celebrations.

For some reason, though, no one realized that all of those who were doing so well were part of the same inter-house study group. None of them had ever tried to hide the existence of their group, but they also hadn't advertised it. The first mass DA meeting wasn't scheduled until later in the month, and in the meantime they'd all begun mini-lessons within their houses by insisting that prospective members at least be able to cast a decent shield — something that would withstand several hexes or curses before failing — as well as an effective disarming charm.

That wasn't nearly enough and they all knew it, but they decided that they all needed to improve a bit before they could pass themselves off as credible teachers for anything more advanced.

They had no idea how quickly events would outpace their plans.

* * *

 **Friday, October 1, 1995, Evening.**

"Have you picked out the team you think will best fulfill your plan, Thaddeus?" Voldemort asked in a casual voice — a voice which the other Death Eaters in attendance knew was probably a bit _too_ casual for the wizard's safety.

"Yes, my Lord," Nott answered, bowing as low as he could go but seemingly pleased by the sudden use of his first name. "I have selected a mix of new recruits who need some experience, a few veterans who avoided prison, and two whom you freed from Azkaban: Travers and Mulciber. The latter will play the most prominent roles for everyone to focus on while the rest will cause mayhem and destruction in the background. If everything goes well, then all the witnesses will assume that the entire group consists of former Azkaban inmates."

"Good, good," Voldemort said as he nodded. "Your plan is sound and will further Our goals. If it succeeds, it will be to your credit and We shall reward you. If it doesn't..."

Nott gulped at the implied threat — a threat that was always hanging over anyone's head in the wake of failure, but he knew that the Dark Lord rarely made a point of stating it aloud. "Ye-yes, my Lord," he said.

"Will you be joining them to personally ensure their success, Severus?" Voldemort asked.

"No, my Lord," Snape said. "I thought I should be seen to be in the castle to avoid any chance of being accused."

"And the scheduled visit to Hogsmeade has not been altered?"

"No, my Lord."

Voldemort nodded slowly. "Very well. Now leave Us, for We wish to discuss the plan further with Thaddeus, here."

Snape slowly backed away, bowing low, then left the throne room as quickly as he was able. _Ever since Narcissa disappeared_ , he thought, _meeting with the Dark Lord has been getting more and more dangerous._


	21. Civil War

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Souls Abound" by robst. In _The Chamber of Secrets_ , the Diary Horcrux nearly caused Tom Riddle to come to life. What if all of the horcruxes could do the same thing? Even worse, what if several of them actually did... at the same time? H/Hr.

* * *

 **Chapter 21 - Civil War**

 **Saturday, October 2, 1995, Late Morning.**

The first Hogsmeade day of the fall term was as bright and clear as Jasmine had ever seen. The cloudless sky was a deep, beautiful blue, and the sun warmed the village in a way that brought everything to life, despite how late it was in the year and the touch of cold that nipped at them when the wind picked up. It was always nice to get out of the castle, even for a few hours, but on this day it seemed especially pleasurable and Jasmine intended to take her time to enjoy it. Who knew what the future might bring?

Everyone had gone to Hogsmeade more or less together, considering that they had to take several carriages, but they split up into smaller groups once they'd arrived. Ron, Neville, and Blaise had gone to Zonko's together. Ron still wasn't very accepting of Slytherins generally, but Neville had been spending more and more time with the taciturn wizard, and Ron had learned to tolerate him in order to hang around with Neville. Jasmine strongly suspected that Blaise's tendency to remain quiet played a big role in Ron's success on that score, and she was pleased to note his progress.

Susan and Hannah had taken Ginny to Gossypamer & Organza's. The younger witch had objected, saying that she couldn't afford anything there, but the others had all chipped in to get her a late birthday present. Susan and Hannah wanted to go anyway, so they volunteered to help Ginny pick out a few things. Daphne and Tracey had gone to pick up some owl treats and promised to meet Hermione at Tomes & Scrolls. Padma was meeting with her sister and Lavender somewhere, while Luna had wandered off on her own right at the start, which was typical for the younger witch.

Jasmine and Hermione were together, of course, with Gabrielle close at hand. She was rarely far from the two — mostly when she was in class — and constantly shifted between gazing at Jasmine with reverence and looking around at their surroundings with suspicion. Jasmine had thought the behavior odd when Hermione had first pointed it out, but eventually she attributed it to Gabrielle's understanding of the prophecy and no longer noticed it much.

It was an absolutely perfect day, and the three witches were already relishing it. That was when they were startled by a loud noise and saw a cloud of smoke rising from a few streets over.

Then the screaming started.

Jasmine didn't notice when her wand shot into her hand, nor was she conscious of how she started moving towards the screaming rather than away like the rest of the crowd was trying to do. When she thought she recognized the screams as coming from a certain ginger wizard she knew well, she started running. Hermione and Gabrielle were close on her heels.

* * *

Ron was by himself when it started, looking for some joke products while Neville and Blaise were on the other side of the store. Glancing up at the commotion, he saw other customers gathering at the front windows, agitated about something. He was about to join them when the whole front of the store exploded inward, sending him flying out the window behind him and into an alley beside the store.

He was dazed and his ears were ringing when he managed to stand up. He clutched at his head, only realizing that he was bleeding when he saw the blood on his hands as he staggered up the alley and towards the main street. Several men in long, black cloaks were standing there, laughing. Well, that was a little insensitive, wasn't it? The thought dimly entered his mind that they might have had something to do with the explosion, but before he could say anything one called out, "Hey, look, it's one of them blood traitors! What say we have a little fun with 'im?"

Ron paled as he fumbled for his wand, but the blood had made his fingers slick enough for it to slip out of his grasp. He stared, dumbfounded, as it clattered along the stone street.

"You go ahead, Travers — we still have other targets the boss wants us to hit," came another voice.

Ron stumbled towards his wand, but a large boot connected with his abdomen, tossing him up against what was left of Zonko's front wall. "Not so fast, little blood traitor!" the man called Travers said. "Sirius Black sends his regards!"

Ron was about to ask why Padfoot would be sending a message with this man when he heard _"_ _ **Crucio!**_ _"_ Thousands of knives stabbed him all over his body. Had he the ability to form coherent thoughts, he'd have expressed amazement that Jasmine had been able to survive having this curse cast on her multiple times. As it was, all he could do was scream and wish that the pain would end.

A minute or possibly an eternity later, it finally stopped and Ron felt like he could take a breath. Still twitching, he rolled his head to the side where the black-cloaked Travers stood over him, cackling in glee. He looked like he was about to cast another spell at him when he heard a softer voice incant, _"_ _ **Reducto!**_ _"_ and Travers went flying away.

Ron turned his head slightly and saw Luna run up and kneel down beside him. She brushed her hand across his cheek, saying sadly, "Oh, Ronald..." Before he could do anything more than twitch again, her head whipped up and her eyes narrowed. Suddenly her wand was up and pointing at something as she cast multiple Reductor curses. Judging by the yells of pain, she connected with several of those curses, too. Then she cast _"Stupefy!"_ and _"Incarcerous!"_ before turning her attention back to him.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position as she reluctantly helped him. "Bloody hell," he groaned.

"Language, Ron," he heard a familiar voice chiding him from behind. Twisting around, he saw Hermione, Jasmine, and Gabrielle run up, their expressions somewhere between concerned and murderous. Hermione put a worried hand on his shoulder and started checking him over for injuries.

"He was hit with the Cruciatus curse," Luna said. "I stunned and bound the one who was doing it, but I think there were more."

"Yeah, there were... ugh, sorry, I'm not even sure. There were several. I think they went that way," he said, gesturing down the main street.

"We'll go after them," Jasmine assured him. "Can you and Luna help whoever was in the store?"

"Neville!" Ron exclaimed abruptly. "Zabini, too! They were on the other side of the store when I was blown out of it." He struggled to stand, anxious to see what had happened to the others.

"Take it easy, Ronald," Luna said to him before turning her attention to the other witches. "I'll stay with him. You go on." Ron could barely walk, but that didn't deter him as he stumbled through the wreckage of the front of Zonko's, desperate to find his friend and that annoying Slytherin he insisted on hanging out with.

* * *

Jasmine jogged down the main street of Hogsmeade, focused on what was ahead of her. She was confident that the adults she'd seen in Zonko's would handle things, especially with help from Luna and Ron. They'd certainly be able to do more for the injured than she could.

She didn't understand why, but she felt a powerful urge to keep moving. It was much like her usual desire to be on the move, but it was stronger than normal. It was also accompanied by an edge of fear that something dreadful would happen if she stood in one place too long.

She hadn't gotten far when a scream stopped her. Ahead and to her left was a storefront that was recessed from the street. There, in the shadows, were three raggedy, feral-looking men standing around three witches on the ground. Jasmine quickly recognized Parvati, who was unconscious, Lavender, who was all bloody and leaning against the wall, and Padma, whose wand was out as she tried to shield her sister.

"My, my," one of the men said, "you three look good enough to eat!"

"Greyback will promote us in the pack for bringing home such scrumptious morsels," a second said.

"I've never tasted such soft, pretty witches before," said the third as he licked his lips. "I'll bet they're tastier than the muggle girls we usually play with."

"Werewolves," Gabrielle growled from behind her. Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other and nodded, knowing what they had to do. Trusting that Gabrielle would watch their backs, they raised their wands and incanted, " _ **Sagittas Argentas Profundo!**_ " sending out two streams of silver arrows.

The werewolves didn't stand a chance. Too busy drooling over what they wanted to do to the three witches at their feet, they never noticed the three new witches that had come up behind them. They were completely unprepared when the first of the arrows struck, and their screams from the burning silver could be heard all over Hogsmeade. By the time they fell to the ground, dead, each had more than a dozen arrows each sticking out of different parts of their bodies.

Once Jasmine and Hermione had ended their spells, they ran to help their friends. While Jasmine crouched beside Padma to help her with her sister, Hermione knelt down next to Lavender and incanted _"Episkey!"_ to stop her wounds from bleeding. The blood only slowed to a sluggish trickle and the wound wouldn't fully close, telling her they must have been at least partially cursed, caused by a werewolf who wasn't transformed.

Ripping off pieces of her robe, she said, "Here, hold these against the cuts. You'll need to get to Madam Pomfrey — I'm sure she knows spells that can help." Lavender simply nodded, pain and fear clear in her eyes.

Meanwhile, Parvati had been woken up and was slowly getting to her feet, unsteady due to whatever had hit her. "Luna and Ron are up the street," Jasmine said, gesturing back in the direction they had come from. "They were going to help people who had been injured when Zonko's was attacked. If either or both can be spared, have them help you get back to the castle." Padma nodded as she supported her sister, then reached over to grab Lavender and help her too.

Knowing that Gabrielle was keeping watch, Jasmine and Hermione had been focused entirely on their friends. They were still kneeling on the ground with their backs were turned when the black-cloaked Death Eater emerged from the shadows of the alley across the street. He raised his wand, intent on cursing and capturing the Girl Who Lived.

Without a second's hesitation, Gabrielle pulled her foot-long bronze short sword from her robes and hurled it at the Death Eater. With a precision born from scores of hours of practice with both mundane and enchanted weapons, she struck her target squarely in the side of his head. He was dead too fast for shock to even register on his face, and he dropped bonelessly back into the shadows from which he had emerged. Gabrielle flexed her fingers, and the sword flew back into her hand.

When Jasmine and Hermione finally turned back to her, she was wiping off the blade of a bronze weapon that looked like it would have been a prized item in any museum's collection of ancient artifacts.

"What happened?" Jasmine asked.

Gabrielle gave her a noncommittal shrug. "Nothing of consequence."

Jasmine was tempted to inquire further, but the noise of a pitched battle down the street drew their attention.

* * *

Daphne and Tracey were browsing books about ancient magic and traditions when they heard spellfire outside. Racing to the window, they saw figures in black cloaks attacking a group of students. Daphne was about to suggest that they stay inside until it was over when Tracey asked, "Isn't that Astoria? There, in the middle?"

Daphne felt her blood run cold when she recognized her little sister among the group of young students being cursed. Astoria could be an annoying brat, but she was still her sister. Daphne didn't hesitate. "We have to save them!"

Tracey didn't try to talk her best friend out of this. It may have been terribly Gryffindorish to charge into a fight against unknown foes, but sometimes recklessness was unavoidable. "You take the left, I'll take the right," she said, trying to inject a little forethought into their mad charge. Daphne nodded once, and like a flash they were both out the door, moving into position behind the group of four Death Eaters.

She and Tracey had spent hours practicing with the others, but none of that had included tactics — like how to attack a superior force from behind. All they could do was use the spells they had learned and hope that their limited training would suffice. Her pulse was pounding in her head, and her throat was the driest she'd ever felt it, but she resolutely looked over at Tracey and mouthed _Now,_ then they simultaneously incanted _"_ _ **Stupefy!**_ _"_ As soon as two of the wizards dropped to the ground, the other two spun around to see where the attack was coming from.

When they realized they were being threatened by two underaged witches, they smiled ferally. "More volunteers for target practice," one said as he incanted, _"_ _ **Bombarda!**_ _"_ Tracey nimbly dodged his spell while his friend incanted _"_ _ **Enervate!**_ _"_ to revive his two downed companions. Daphne hit him with a second stunner as he did this, but she wanted to scream in frustration because the other two were quickly on their feet.

In the meantime, Tracey had cast a few more stunners at the other wizard, but he shielded himself and then started flinging far nastier curses back. Tracey was forced into constant motion in order to avoid them all, taxing her to her limits.

"Stand still, you little witch!" he called out, apparently expecting his victims to meekly accept being cursed without resistance or protest.

Daphne found herself dodging as well when the two revived wizards started casting their own spells at her, and she mentally thanked Fleur for the viciousness of her training. _Just think of practice_ , she kept chanting to herself. _Just think of practice and of dodging Fleur's hexes._

Luckily the two wizards attacking her didn't consider an underaged witch to be much of a threat and so didn't take her seriously. This allowed her to slip in a reductor curse that knocked one off his feet. Before the other could get over his shock, he was hit with a stunner in the back. When he fell, Daphne saw her little sister, one hand holding out her wand and the other clutching her side in obvious pain.

She could only give Astoria a quick smile and nod before incanting _"_ _ **Stupefy!**_ _"_ at the wizard she'd just knocked down. "And _stay_ down this time!" she spat.

Daphne then turned and started casting spells at the wizard who was putting so much pressure on Tracey. He clearly had some skill, but the sudden introduction of incoming fire from a new direction proved to be too much for him. It only took seconds for them to have him stunned and bound. The girls wasted no time in casting new stunners at the rest and binding them as well before checking the younger students for injuries.

Daphne barely had a chance to hug her sister before Jasmine, Hermione, and Gabrielle came running around the corner. It was only a couple of seconds later that Luna appeared as well, wand in hand, letting them know that several of their other friends were already on their way back to the castle.

"But where are the others?" Hermione asked.

* * *

It had been a wonderful morning for the girls in Gossypamer & Organza's. Ginny was feeling pampered by getting to buy some expensive clothes, and the two Hufflepuffs were enjoying getting to know the younger Gryffindor. All that was forgotten, though, when a loud commotion drew them to the store's front window. The sight of men in black robes casting curses at people and buildings sent a thrill of fear through them, but whereas the store's workers ran into the back, the three witches looked at each other in an attempt to decide whether they should go out to help.

The screaming of a child made that decision easy. As they exited through the front door, they saw what appeared to be a large family being tortured. All five of the men in black cloaks were facing away from them, apparently not expecting anyone to even try to attack them from behind.

"Stunners?" Hannah asked in a whisper. One thing they'd learned from their research over the summer was that Death Eaters rarely paid much attention to their surroundings — once they had victims cornered, they pursued their pleasure with single-minded fervor.

Susan nodded. "That's easiest. The aurors can interrogate them later." Another thing they'd learned was the importance of getting prisoners to question about future plans — something that had happened far too rarely.

They only needed a few seconds to stun and bind the attackers; even after the first three were down, the other two didn't turn fast enough to prevent their own capture.

"We'd better get back to the main street," Susan said while Hannah checked the family, none of whom had been hurt too badly yet.

"Good idea," Ginny responded. "If people are being attacked here, they're probably being attacked where most of the shopping is. The others might need our help."

Once they had returned to the main shopping area, they almost immediately found and joined the others, with everyone participating in a large group-hug. None of them had had to fight for long and no one from their close-knit group was injured, but it was the first such fight for most of them, and it had been far more stressful and difficult than any of them could have imagined. Throughout their practical defense training exercises, Hermione and Jasmine had repeatedly told them that real fights were fast and brutal — that training could give you the tools you needed to survive, but nothing could truly prepare you for what it was like to fight for your life or the lives of your loved ones.

Everyone had believed them on an intellectual level, but none had fully understood how true their words were. Not until now. As the adrenaline rush began to fade, a few sat heavily on the ground, suddenly feeling exhausted, and one started sobbing for no reason she could immediately discern. Before they could truly calm down, though, the air was filled with loud cracks of apparition.

Instantly all nine witches were on their feet with their wands in their hands. "Protect the others!" Daphne shouted. The witches didn't hesitate to surround the younger students, even as they found themselves encircled by a new crowd of robed figures. Astoria and her friends also pulled their wands, including those who had been injured.

They had just formed a circle with their wands pointed outward when they heard the shout, "Drop your wands!" After the desperate fights they'd already engaged in, none were inclined to heed such a command. Instead, they all tightened their grips, picked targets, and prepared themselves for another battle.

Fortunately for all involved, Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forward from the newcomers, having already recognized some of the would-be combatants. "Stand down!" he ordered those behind him. "Don't you idiots recognize your own boss's niece? Or if not her, then Jasmine Potter?" This produced a lot of nervous shuffling on the part of the aurors, though they all had the good sense to stop aiming their wands at a group of underaged witches. "Spread out! Look for suspects."

"Auror Shacklebolt?" Susan said, suddenly registering all the red robes around them. Relief washed over her as she sagged a little, then she visibly pulled herself together. "There are five stunned and bound over by Gossypamer & Organza's," she directed him.

"There's another one by Zonko's," Luna added.

"And we have four right—" Just as Susan was gesturing to the stunned and bound wizards who had been taken down by Daphne and Tracey, they all disappeared. "Wha—?"

"Damn!" Shacklebolt exclaimed. "Portkeys of some sort." He turned back to the aurors and barked, "Hurry to those locations to see if any of the rest are still around. If they are, strip them fast to remove any portkeys!" Most of the aurors left at a run while Shacklebolt and two others remained. "Your aunt will be here shortly," he said to Susan. "I sent her a signal right after I recognized you."

The students were all shuffled off to the side of the street, and Shacklebolt started casting diagnostic and healing spells on the injured while the other two cast spells around where the fight had taken place. It was only a few minutes before Amelia Bones arrived with another group of aurors. She quickly pulled her niece into a tight hug.

"What happened?" she asked as she looked around at the friends Susan had told her about at the beginning of the summer.

"We were all shopping in different places," Susan answered, "when we saw or heard people being attacked. So we tried to help. I was with Hannah and Ginny getting clothes."

"Daphne and I were in the bookstore over there," Tracey said as she gestured across the street.

"You should get help or hide when things like that happen," Bones scolded her niece. "You shouldn't rush into danger."

"Maybe not," Susan said as she tried to stand a little straighter, "but none of the adults around here tried to do anything. If we hadn't helped, then others might have been hurt pretty badly. Or killed."

"Or worse," Jasmine interjected. "Three of our friends had slobbering werewolves standing over them, discussing how yummy they looked and how much fun they were going to have with the witches before tucking in for a meal." Everyone went a little green, and Madam Bones didn't have an easy retort to offer.

That didn't stop her from trying, however. "I'm glad you were able to save your friends, but going up against grown wizards is dangerous — never mind werewolves with their enhanced strength and speed, even when they aren't transformed. You were all lucky that you weren't hurt, and you shouldn't trust that you'll be lucky again in the future."

"Of course not," Hermione replied a little indignantly. "That's why we train and practice regularly."

"We'll have to step it up," Daphne said, still standing protectively next to her sister, one arm around Astoria's shoulders. "Madam Bones is right: we were lucky. The wizards Tracey and I fought had their backs to us to start with, and we still had trouble. If this is the sort of thing we have to look forward to in this country in the near future, we need to get better, otherwise things may not go as well next time." The others nodded vigorously in agreement.

Amelia Bones looked taken aback that words intended to discourage the young witches from getting involved in fights had only inspired them to train harder, but her responsibilities meant that she couldn't continue the debate. "Regardless, I think you should all get back to the castle while we start the cleanup. I'll have some people come to interview you all later on today, OK?" After getting another hug, she returned to directing her aurors while the students began the long walk back to school.

* * *

 **Saturday, October 2, 1995, Late Evening.**

Albus Dumbledore looked over the students who were spending the night in the Hogwarts hospital wing, cursing the violence and warfare which had brought so much pain to his school. _Of course it was going to affect us here in Hogwarts sooner or later_ , he thought, _but I was certain that it would be later — that Tom wouldn't dare make such a move while he was still able to hide the fact that he'd returned. Why did he strike now, risking exposure? And why didn't Severus warn me?_

He sighed deeply as he turned away and headed back to his office. Along the way, he pondered the direction the current conflict was going. _We're lucky that far more students weren't hurt_ , he thought, _but at the same time, Miss Potter and Miss Granger brutally killed three wizards. Werewolves, to be sure, but also wizards. There's no telling how many of the others were also killed, though most of the girls reported using more appropriate, non-lethal spells._

"Headmaster Dumbledore?" came a voice from behind him, pulling him out of his musings. He turned and saw his new Defense professor approaching. "Are ze injured students alright?"

"Yes, Professor Delacour," he responded, using a more formal form of address because he didn't yet feel comfortable enough to be familiar with her. "I was just stopping by to check on them. The worries of an old man."

Fleur nodded gravely as she began to walk beside him. "It is to your credit zat you worry about all of your students."

"Unfortunately, worrying about them isn't enough to protect them," he replied a bit morosely. "I was glad to see that your sister wasn't injured today."

She flashed a brief smile then, and it struck him as oddly satisfied. "So was I, but I was not surprised. She has received extensive training and is quite formidable."

"I was unaware of that. The same sort of training you have received, I presume?"

"Yes, exactly ze same. I am not sure zat I could beat her in a fight anymore. I am older and more experienced, but she tends to fight with more passion and commitment."

Dumbledore nodded, starting to put a few things together. "If I'm not mistaken, you and your sister have been doing a bit of work with Miss Potter and her friends."

Fleur frowned slightly before responding, "We have all worked together on skills like spellcasting accuracy, yes."

Dumbledore remained silent for a few moments, considering what had been said and what had been left unsaid. Finally he ventured, "It is unfortunate, is it not, that some resort to such violent measures when responding to threats?"

"Indeed," she said. "The Death Eaters are truly a plague upon Britain. I will never understand why zey feel so threatened by ze presence of witches and wizards who are different from zem in some minor way."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I meant the response to the Death Eaters, actually."

"Oh? I always zought that a violent response to ze immediate threat of being tortured, raped, or murdered was appropriate. Violent times breed violent measures."

"I've always said that it's violent men who breed violent times," Dumbledore countered.

"And somehow it is we witches who so often bear ze brunt of ze violence from such men," Fleur pointed out, causing Dumbledore to flinch slightly. She stopped to face him directly, forcing him to stop as well. Her words were clear and precise as she spoke with an intensity he'd not seen in her before. "A victim who reacts violently against oppression and attack is _not_ to be condemned, but at worst pitied for being forced to take such extreme measures. In my studies, I have learned that equating the violent reactions of the victims with the violence of the attackers has always been another tool of oppression. It is how those in positions of power and authority tell the victims that they should stop resisting and simply be happy to be left alive. Conflict in every society is inevitable, but not all those who respond with violence are wrong, and not all those who preach nonviolence are right to do so."

Dumbledore didn't respond, but instead remained silent as she looked around and noticed that they'd already arrived at the cross-corridor near the Defense classrooms. "I'm afraid zis is where we must part ways. Goodnight, Headmaster," Fleur said before walking away with her head held high.

Dumbledore watched her until she turned a corner, weighing her words and wondering if perhaps his decision to eschew violence and killing so long ago was less morally clear-cut than he'd thought.

* * *

Voldemort looked down with contempt at the quivering husk of what used to be a promising new Death Eater. He remembered how creative the young wizard had been with the muggle girls the night he'd been marked; now he was more dead than alive, and Voldemort felt nothing for him — he was a failure, like so many of his other followers were. "Dispose of this," he commanded, and two other recruits dragged what remained of the man out of the throne room.

Based on the information he'd managed to rip from the minds of those who had gone on the mission — all but one of whom returned alive, if not standing and victorious — they'd been bested by students. By underaged witches, in fact!

Not that all those who returned alive remained alive, though — not after the Dark Lord was done interrogating them. Voldemort was furious at the incompetence of his servants and wondered if he should be equally furious at Snape. On the one hand, he had provided the original idea for this mission; on the other, he hadn't created the plan of attack. Moreover, he had suggested the use of timed portkeys which ensured that everyone had been able to return.

 _We shall have to think about what to do with him before summoning him_ , Voldemort concluded.

* * *

 **Saturday, October 2, 1995, Night.**

Gabrielle was alone in the fourth-year girls' dorm, sitting behind sealed bed curtains and staring at the bronze short sword she'd been gifted by Areto in early August. "Use this well," her Amazzi trainer had said. "This was my mother's sword, and it was her mother's before her. I'd be honored if you would carry it into battle in defense of your two charges. I'm proud of how much progress you've made, and I know that you will make not only your family but all the veela proud."

"Would they be proud of me?" Gabrielle whispered. She'd killed today for the first time, an act she'd known she'd end up doing sooner or later — all that training with deadly weapons hadn't been done for physical fitness! — and her tutors had prepared her for that. She'd killed a wizard who'd raised a wand to her charges, a wizard who would have raped, tortured, and/or killed them without a second thought. He deserved to be put down.

 _Then again_ , she thought, _**I**_ _killed_ _ **him**_ _without a second thought, so what does that make_ _ **me**_ _? What's more, I don't feel bad about it — which is worse, right?_

This was the problem the Sorting Hat had alluded to and which she hadn't wanted to deal with. She was so completely devoted to her part of the prophecy — and to helping Jasmine in particular — that she felt no compunction at the prospect of hurting or even killing anyone who was a threat.

For a while now, she'd been suppressing any concerns about this by reminding herself that such actions were obviously expected, otherwise the prophecy would never have stipulated that the Chosen Couple would need shieldmaidens. Whatever changes had occurred in her psyche to make her this zealous and ruthless had occurred as part of her prophesied bonding to the Couple, and that wouldn't have happened if the goddesses hadn't wanted it, right? If Magic hadn't wanted it?

 _But if that's the case, why would I be worried about what others would think?_ she wondered. _Would Fleur be proud of what I did? Would Maman? Would... would_ _ **Jasmine**_ _be proud of me and what I've done?_

* * *

 **Sunday, October 3, 1995, Morning.**

"Hermione?" Ron asked as he sat gingerly at the Gryffindor table.

"Oh, Ron, there you are," Hermione responded. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad," he answered as he dished up some breakfast. "Madam Pomfrey said that the wizard who cursed me wasn't very strong, so the aftereffects shouldn't last too long. I'll be sore and twitchy for a few days, but that's it."

"I'm glad to hear that," Jasmine told him. "We were all worried about you."

"Ickle Ronnikins is still a Weasley," one of the twins said as they sat on the other side of the table.

"Even if we've publicly questioned that a few times," said the other.

"Or maybe even more than a few times," the first added.

Ron blushed from the teasing, but pressed on with his original intentions. "Hermione, is your offer to help with extra practice and training still open? I know that there have already been some basic lessons for Gryffindor, but after yesterday..."

"You mean with our study group?" Hermione asked. When he nodded, she said, "Normally we would have met yesterday, but it was delayed until today because of Hogsmeade. So, if you think you're ready, you can join us after breakfast." When Ron hesitated, she went on, "I know you may not be feeling your best, but the sooner you start, the better."

"You'll have to work hard to catch up as it is," Jasmine interrupted, "but the harder you work, the better you'll be. Do you know if Neville or Blaise will be released today?"

Ron shook his head. "Not until tomorrow. They weren't cursed like I was, but they received a lot of injuries in Zonko's and had to be given a ton of Skele-Gro." Jasmine shuddered, remembering her own experience with that potion. After a long moment, Ron finally said, "Yeah, sure... I'll join you today."

On the other side of him, Luna smiled shyly.

* * *

Everyone in the study group was surprised when Fleur showed up to the practical defense training with Professor Flitwick. "Good morning, everyone," Flitwick said, "I know I don't normally participate in your practice sessions, but I'm here for a special purpose: to talk to you about what you experienced yesterday. I know your experiences were difficult, but talking about it can not only help you get past the trauma. It will also help you understand what you did right and what you could have done better. I'm told you've already given statements to the aurors, but I would help you approach events from the perspective of learning from them, not simply reporting them."

As he looked around at their skeptical faces, he added, "I've already done this with Miss Potter and Miss Granger, and it's helped them." All the skepticism fell away when the others saw Jasmine and Hermione nod in agreement. "Alright then," Flitwick continued, "Let's sit so we can be comfortable as we talk. Who'd like to begin?"

Jasmine volunteered to start things off since she'd done it the most. This was the first time any of the others except Padma had heard that the werewolves encountered by Jasmine and Hermione had been killed instead of simply stunned, and it shocked them quite a bit.

After listening to her story, Flitwick said, "Normally I wouldn't agree with resorting to deadly force right from the start, but from what you heard I suspect that they'd killed young girls before — and probably quite a few times. Werewolves are also somewhat resistant to magic, and that's in addition to their enhanced physical strength and speed, so low-level spells might not have worked. You needed to start with a strong attack regardless, and while your choice was quite brutal, it was reasonable under the circumstances."

Padma went next, and her story was short, given how quickly she and her friends had been incapacitated. Overwhelmed by emotion from the memory of what had almost happened to her, her sister, and her sister's best friend, she got up and hugged the two witches who had saved them.

Once the others had told their stories, Flitwick looked around and asked them what they thought they could have done better or might change if they had to relive the same day over. Daphne was the first to respond. "I'd use something other than a stunner — something that couldn't be easily cancelled."

Flitwick nodded. "That's a good observation. When fighting multiple opponents, anything that can be easily countered or undone can bring a downed opponent right back into the fight. So you are always faced with the decision: should you use a weaker spell that won't hurt your opponents much but will put you at substantially greater risk, or should you use a stronger spell that will cause greater injuries but reduce the risk to yourself?"

"This is something that I've talked to Miss Potter and Miss Granger about numerous times," the diminutive professor continued, "but it's clearly something you'll have to wrestle with as well if you are going to get involved in some of the situations that affect them."

"What would _you_ have done, Professor?" Hannah asked. "What sorts of spells would you have used?" She, more than anyone else, had the most trouble with the idea of going into a fight. She had been willing to back Susan the previous day, and the presence of Ginny had given her more courage, but it had still been hard on her.

"That's a difficult question for me to answer, Miss Abbot," he replied. "I'm quite a bit more powerful and experienced than the rest of you. I'm also a lot faster and more accurate. I could have afforded to use less dangerous spells because I would have known that I could take them down without causing them serious injury. You, however, have fewer options."

He looked around at them and thought for a few moments, then concluded, "In your place, with what I know about your skills, I would have used the strongest spells I knew that wouldn't have put any innocent victims in danger — and that's something you need to keep in mind. Almost all of you were facing opponents with victims right on the other side, always at risk from stray spells."

"Do you have any recommendations?" Padma asked.

Flitwick nodded. "In most cases, a strong reductor curse or blasting curse will put an opponent down, but you need to aim high and accurately to avoid innocent victims. Fire spells can transfer flames to victims too easily. Beyond that, well..." He trailed off and looked uneasily at Jasmine and Hermione. "There are other spells designed to cause more serious harm to opponents. They aren't truly dark spells, but by their nature they aren't light, either. They are usually taught to aurors, hit wizards, and people in similar occupations: cutting curses, bone breaking curses, that sort of thing."

"Do they make that much of a difference?" Tracey asked. "I mean, those other spells can break bones too, right?"

Instead of answering immediately, Flitwick looked again at Jasmine and Hermione. "Yes, they can make a big difference," Jasmine finally said. "Last term we told you about how Hermione and I had been learning more serious spells in case we were attacked. General purpose spells may break bones, but they may not. A spell designed for that purpose will hurt a person more quickly and seriously — that's why they're so effective."

"It's also why they aren't to be fooled with," Hermione added. "They're not only dangerous for your opponents, but for you as well if you aren't careful. They require that you be able to accurately visualize the specific sort of damage you want to inflict. Being able to do that changes you, even if you use such spells with the best of intentions."

Flitwick nodded in approval.

"Can we learn those?" Susan asked. "I'm familiar with such spells because of my auntie, but I've never been taught any of them."

"I think that Professor Delacour here will be able to teach you the general spells quite well," Flitwick replied, "but I'm reluctant to teach the rest of you the more serious spells. Miss Potter and Miss Granger absolutely needed to learn them, and that's been proven. The rest of you, though, have a choice about whether to get involved with this conflict."

"I disagree," Susan asserted. "These aren't random criminals that are running around, causing trouble. They're terrorists. This is a war — a civil war. Unless someone manages to eliminate You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters quickly, we'll all be drawn into this war sooner or later. No one's completely safe."

"We can't choose whether we'll be involved or not," Tracey added. "We can only choose how prepared we'll be and how well we can defend ourselves when the war finally comes to us."

"Or more accurately, comes to us _again_ ," Daphne pointed out, and there were murmurs of agreement all around.

Jasmine and Hermione traded a look, recognizing the same arguments and issues they had struggled with last term. At the same time, Fleur placed her hand lightly on Flitwick's shoulder and said, "We should talk later." The Charms professor inclined his head, then told the others that he'd let them know his decision soon.

After that, Flitwick decided to stay for the rest of the meeting to help supervise the practice. While he, Fleur, and Gabrielle ran the others through accuracy and dodging drills, Hermione and Jasmine worked with Ron in order to get him up to speed as quickly as possible. Because of the residual effects of the Cruciatus Curse, he couldn't move or aim as well as he normally would be able to, but he still managed to improve, and they promised to keep working with him.

Before the group broke up, they agreed to move the first mass DA meeting to that coming Friday evening. Because of the attacks in Hogsmeade, interest in the DA had increased quite a bit with many more students — especially the younger ones — asking about opportunities to practice defensive spells. Classes with Fleur had taught everyone a lot so far, but now they knew that they needed more.

* * *

 **Sunday, October 3, 1995, Late Night.**

Severus Snape's hands trembled as he poured himself a dose of a special potion he'd developed to help him deal with the aftereffects of repeated exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. It didn't eliminate the pain, sensitivity, or shaking, but it did minimize them, making it easier for him to maintain his impassive facade. After quickly downing the potion, he carefully poured himself a large measure of firewhiskey and sat by his fire to wait for the curse's effects to subside.

He hadn't been surprised when he was called to the Dark Lord's side that morning; if anything, he wondered why he hadn't been called the night before. Once he'd learned how the Death Eaters have been subdued by a bunch of students, he knew that he'd be paying the price sooner or later. His fear increased exponentially when the Dark Lord informed him that Thaddeus Nott had died during the raid, his body being returned via portkey like the others.

It seemed that it was only his suggestion that they use automatic, timed portkeys that saved him from the Dark Lord's wrath, though now he'd have to inform Nott's son about what happened.

Luckily for him, Nott had been the one who had brought in the three werewolves — without Snape's knowledge and against his original recommendation, too. The Dark Lord had agreed with Snape that bringing in werewolves would have caused problems for the long-term plan and would have severely punished Nott had he made it back alive. As it was, he took out his anger on Travers for having helped.

The mission hadn't been a success, but it hadn't been a complete failure, either. The Death Eaters had terrorized the village as they were supposed to do and had spread the idea that they were working for Sirius Black. Not terrorizing everyone a bit more was a minor issue. Being embarrassed by a bunch of underaged witches was far worse, but not something Snape was blamed for — those who had been brought down by the witches suffered for that failure, not him.

 _Now, though, I have to identify the witches and explain how and why they were able to fight so well_ , Snape thought. _I didn't dare tell him that I recognized them all immediately in the memory, much less that a couple of them were in Slytherin! None of them were especially skilled, but they were more skilled than the Dark Lord's servants expected. That allowed them to win more by surprise than anything else. Still, they were better than they should have been. I have no idea what they would all... Potter!_ Snape groaned in annoyance. _One thing they all have in common is spending more time with Potter!_

 _That is not something I can go back to tell the Dark Lord,_ he concluded. _That's not the sort of news you deliver and then walk away alive. I'll need to find out more about what those stupid witches are doing, but I'll also need a better explanation to go back with next time._ He hoped he could find one.


	22. Fight the Power

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "A Squib Worth" by Naia. Harry Potter never got his letter from Hogwarts because he was a squib. That didn't bother him, though, and he went on to make a good life for himself. But without him, things go badly for the magical world when Voldemort returns, and soon magicals rediscover Harry — much to his regret. H/Hr.

* * *

 **Chapter 22 - Fight the Power**

 **Monday, October 4, 1995, Morning.**

"Have you noticed that Nott hasn't been looking too good the past couple of days?" Jasmine asked. Hermione looked up from the _Daily Prophet_ , which displayed a headline about Sirius Black being responsible for the attack on Hogsmeade, then over at the Slytherin table where Nott did indeed appear rather drawn and pale. Instead of participating in any of the conversations going on around him, he was staring at his breakfast, eating it without any obvious pleasure. Hermione was about to respond when Jasmine grabbed her arm hard and pointed to Hedwig, who had flown through the owl entrance into the Great Hall.

The reason for Jasmine's rough action was immediately clear by how Hedwig was flying — Hermione had seen her fly injured once before and recognized the signs. When she landed, Hermione took the message while Jasmine examined her to see what might be wrong. "I don't think anything's broken," she said, "but a lot of feathers have been damaged, and there is blood."

"Let's take her to Professor Grubbly-Plank," Hermione suggested. "I'd prefer Hagrid, but she seems to know her stuff."

They found Hagrid's replacement in the staff room, and they were relieved to hear that the injuries were no more serious than they looked and that Hedwig should make a fast recovery. On the way to History of Magic, Hermione shared the contents of the letter, which was from her parents. "My father writes, 'Our hostesses have been nothing but warm and gracious, as you might expect. We have to admit, living in a household with veela has been educational, to say the least. Changes your perspective on a lot of things, you know?'"

"I guess living in France is good for them," Jasmine observed. "But I'm worried about Hedwig being attacked while carrying a letter from your parents."

"Do you think someone is trying to find them?" Hermione asked, now nervous.

Jasmine shrugged. "Or trying to learn about anyone I might be in contact with. You know, including Padfoot."

"We can't keep using her," Hermione declared. "But... but that means not writing to anyone, because I doubt the school owls will fight to keep their messages like Hedwig obviously did."

"We'll find a way," Jasmine said. "Maybe one of our friends has an owl we can borrow, even if only in an emergency."

That was the last bit of peace they had that week, because when they exited History of Magic later, they found Dolores Umbridge waiting for them, glaring even more than usual and beginning once again to show up wherever they went. She didn't say anything, despite the fact that the magic from the Autumnal Equinox probably wasn't affecting her anymore, and the two witches were certain that she was planning something.

* * *

 **Monday, October 4, 1995, Late Afternoon.**

Fleur held Jasmine and Hermione back after Defense class to deliver a message. "I heard back from my maman about ze basilisk parts. I don't know if you remember, but when I first told you about ze veela, one of ze zings I said we specialize in is enchanting. Most wizards and witches zink ze goblins are ze best enchanters, at least when it comes to weapons and jewelry, but ze veela are better with certain types of enchanting. It depends on ze object being enchanted and ze types of enchantments being applied."

"Oh, yes, I remember you mentioning that," Hermione responded. "But I had no idea that veela enchantments were so good."

"Yes. In fact, ze goblins made an agreement with ze veela to have us do some of ze most difficult and complicated enchantments for zem, which zey zen often sell."

"Why would your people do that?" Jasmine asked.

Fleur shrugged. "Ze veela did not care about ze fame, and letting ze goblins do ze selling meant we could further reduce our contact with outsiders. Anyway, my maman says zat if we send her ze basilisk parts, she will take care of transforming it all into enchanted magical items like armor and weapons — at no cost, of course. Whatever we do not use, she will have sold through her French contacts. No one will be able to connect it with you, and you will get far more gold zan if you sell it on your own."

"That's... that's too generous," Jasmine stammered. "We couldn't possibly..."

Fleur waved off her protests. "She wants to do zis — she wants to help where she can. Besides, she is hopeful that ze basilisk hide will make for good armor — sleeveless tunics zat will provide defense against magical and physical attacks. Enchanting will be key to transforming ze hide into armor, though, and ze veela will do a much better job with something like basilisk hide zan anyone else."

"Thank you," Hermione cut in, putting her hand on her girlfriend's shoulder to forestall any further objections. "It is very generous, and we accept." She finished with a meaningful look at Jasmine to emphasize the point. "When you decide how you want to get the crates of parts to France, call Dobby and Winky to help. We'll tell them to listen for you."

"Zank you," Fleur responded. "If zere is a lot, I will definitely need zeir help."

"Fleur, can you pass messages back and forth between Hermione and her parents?" Jasmine asked suddenly, causing Hermione to let out a soft gasp of surprise.

"Of course, but why?" Fleur asked.

"Hedwig was injured coming back with a letter from my parents," Hermione answered. "Even after she's healed, we don't think we can keep using her."

"Do not worry," Fleur reassured her. "I will see zat your letters get to zem." That earned the Defense professor a firm Hermione hug of thanks.

* * *

 **Tuesday, October 5, 1995, Evening.**

Although there was plenty of other work that needed to be done, about the only thing the study group could concentrate on was preparing for the first mass DA meeting that would take place in a few days. Everyone was simultaneously anxious about teaching such a large group and eager to get started. The thought of being attacked was no longer a mere intellectual exercise: it had happened once already, and they knew it could happen again at any time.

"What about security?" Daphne asked. "I know that some members of our house can't be trusted, but I couldn't tell you for sure which to be wary of."

"Don't worry, I've got it covered," Hermione assured her. When Daphne looked skeptical, Hermione added with a feral smile, "I got some ideas from books that were in a... darker library, shall we say. As well as someone with a history of rather vicious pranks."

"What are we going to start with?" Susan asked. "There's going to be a wide range of skills and experience."

"I've been thinking about that," Jasmine answered. "I figured it would be best to start with the basics: shields and disarming. Once we see how people are doing, we split them up by ability. I'd prefer to match people in different houses, since they will be practicing within their houses most of the time. Once everyone can at least cast those spells and hit what they're aiming at, we'll move on to accuracy drills—"

"I was thinking that basics like accuracy, dodging, and practicing known spells should be handled by us in the individual houses," Susan interrupted. "The large meetings would be better suited for learning new spells and for all of us to collectively help those struggling and watch for any common problems that keep coming up."

The others all nodded, liking that idea, so Jasmine said, "Okay, I can go along with that. So once we're sure that everyone can cast shields and stunners—"

"Ssshhh!" Jasmine was interrupted again, this time by Tracey, who gestured down a row of shelves where they could all see a bit of pink poking out from behind one bookshelf. "Umbridge," she whispered, forcing an end to the discussion of the DA. While most of them simply focused on their homework, Gabrielle kept a close eye on where she thought Umbridge might be lurking.

* * *

 **Thursday, October 7, 1995, Morning.**

On the way to breakfast, the primary topic of conversation was Professor Trelawney having been put on probation the previous day. "As much as I dislike divination — and all that comes with it," Jasmine said, trading a significant look with Hermione, "I feel sorry for Trelawney. Somehow, I doubt she has anywhere to go if she's kicked out of here. I've never seen her leave for any reason. Not for any of the holidays."

"It tells us that Umbridge is doing more than following us around," Hermione pointed out, shivering slightly at the thought of how often they'd run into her in the corridors over the last week.

"It also tells us that the Ministry is serious about exercising its authority over how Hogwarts is run," Neville said. "They may have started with one of the least popular members of staff, but the fact remains that she has taught here for a long time. Putting her on probation is, if nothing else, a message to the rest of the staff."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "And the message is: you could be next."

"She may have been targeted first because she was the least popular," Ginny pointed out, and the others nodded.

When they arrived at the Entrance Hall, they found a large crowd gathered around where Filch was once again attaching something to the wall, Dolores Umbridge standing by his side. The bandages were long gone from her hands, though Jasmine suspected she was using glamours to hide scarring, and it appeared that the effects of the Autumnal Equinox ritual had definitely worn off.

"Hem, hem, can I have your attention," she called out, her high-pitched voice cracking in her attempt to be heard. When the murmuring died down, she continued, "According to Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four, all student groups, clubs, and teams, which are defined as any regularly occurring meeting of three or more students, are immediately disbanded. Anyone who wishes to re-form a group, club, or team, or to form a new one, must get permission to do so from the Chief Inquisitor. No group, club, or team is permitted to exist without the knowledge and permission of the Chief Inquisitor. The penalty for starting or joining any group, club, or team without the knowledge and permission of the Chief Inquisitor is immediate expulsion."

"Does this include the Quidditch teams?" Ron asked incredulously.

"But of course it does," Umbridge said with a smile. "They are teams, and they consist of more than three students. You can count, can't you?"

"What about classes?" one of the Weasley twins asked.

"What about them?" Umbridge replied with a frown.

"Well, they meet regularly," the first twin pointed out.

"And they have more than three people," the second twin added.

"For that matter," the first continued, "what about our meals? Will we all be expelled if we walk into breakfast right now?"

"Well, no... but... I mean..." Umbridge sputtered.

"Will we get expelled for going to bed in our dorms?" Jasmine asked, catching on to what the devious duo was doing. "Most of us here in Hogwarts have at least three people in each year's dorm room."

"Spending time in the common rooms is right out," Neville chimed in, continuing with the theme. "In fact, I don't see any way of adhering to this decree unless we all split up, two students to a classroom, and not leave those rooms until the end of the year."

"Even going to the loo might be dangerous, at least for the witches," Ron said softly — yet not so softly that Ginny couldn't hear him, and it earned him a sharp elbow to the side. Even Luna glared at him for a half second.

"Madam Umbridge," came the Headmaster's voice, interrupting the Pink Toad Lady's sputtering. "It seems to me that this particular decree was... not well thought out, shall we say? If you leave it in effect, you'll force me to expel every student who attends a meal or a class, and by the end of the day we won't have a school left. What will Minister Fudge say about that?"

"Fine!" Umbridge said, her face nearly purple with anger. She motioned to Filch to take down the decree, and once she had it in her hands, she shoved her way through the hostile, murmuring crowd.

Dumbledore gave the Gryffindors who had been at the center of the argument an appraising look. "I hope you realize that you have only delayed the inevitable. By pointing out the flaws in her decree, you've given her the opportunity to improve it — and I suspect that she'll exercise more care with future decrees as well."

"True," said the first twin with a shrug, "but it also gives us time to plan a response since we know what's coming."

"And the entertainment value of watching her flounder is not to be underestimated," the second twin added.

The Headmaster chuckled before saying, "Indeed, I suppose you're right. Keep in mind that she won't forget this insult. I expect that she'll be keeping a closer eye on the two of you... well, on all of you, now that you've embarrassed and inconvenienced her."

"It was going to happen eventually anyway," Neville said.

"True," Dumbledore conceded, "but as Mr. Weasley just pointed out to me, there's value in delaying the inevitable so you have more time to prepare."

Dumbledore was right about Umbridge only being delayed. A new and improved Educational Decree was posted that evening, one that made exemptions for classes, meals, sleeping in dorms, and working in common rooms or the library. By eliminating the obvious problems, though, she introduced loopholes that clever students could take advantage of.

* * *

 **Saturday, October 9, 1995, Evening.**

Both Jasmine and Hermione were mentally and physically tired when they made their way to the headmaster's office for what they expected would be another lesson on the history of Voldemort. Their day had started with a long meeting of the S.P.E.W. leadership to decide how to handle future meetings of both S.P.E.W. and the DA now that organizations like them were banned. No one thought for even a second that Umbridge would give permission for them to exist.

Hermione pointed out that the revised decree allowed for studying in the common rooms, so they could use that until she figured out that loophole existed and closed it. Jasmine, who was asked to come due to the importance of the meeting, recommended that they focus as much as possible on small, house-based meetings for S.P.E.W. and limit the mass DA meetings to once a month, thus reducing their risks as much as possible.

That was followed by an especially tough defense practice session with their study group for the rest of the morning, then another tough session with Flitwick all afternoon. When they were done, he informed the girls that he would teach some of the stronger curses to their study group. Fleur had explained to him how much they were developing magically and physically from the holiday rituals, and he concluded that with careful supervision they might be able to handle it. He did, however, impress upon them the fact that he didn't want _them_ teaching anyone else those nastier curses, something they both readily agreed to.

Now they had to go to another "lesson" with Dumbledore, and they weren't looking forward to it any more than they had been the first time. Still, despite how useless it all seemed, they couldn't deny that knowing more about Voldemort's past might be helpful eventually. They just wished that their headmaster wouldn't take so long to get through the material.

* * *

"Welcome back," Dumbledore said as the girls sat down. "Before we begin this evening, do either of you have any questions about the memory of Tom Riddle's parents?"

"Yes," Jasmine replied, "What happened to them? That was his father's grave I was tied to during that ritual, so he's dead, but what about his mother? I remember the shade of Tom Riddle saying that he grew up in an orphanage, so I'm guessing she died when he was young?"

"And how did those two ever get together, anyway?" Hermione asked. "They don't seem like the sort that would be attracted to each other."

"Ah, those are important questions which I had intended to answer over the course of tonight's lesson," Dumbledore answered sagely. "I agree that they are an unlikely couple, but Merope Gaunt was a witch and thus had the tools to attract men — tools which muggle women lack."

"An Imperius Curse?" Jasmine asked, horrified.

"A love potion, more likely," Dumbledore said. "She wasn't skilled or powerful with magic. Even so, the potion either wore off or she chose to stop giving it to him in the hope that he would have fallen in love with her naturally. From the memories I've collected, she struck me as quite the romantic. Either way, I learned from local gossips about Tom Riddle Sr. returning to Little Hangleton and complaining about being tricked by a woman into entering a relationship with her. He left her pregnant and alone. Heartbroken, too, I suspect. She died in childbirth, so young Tom never got to know his mother."

"That's rather sad," Hermione observed.

"Are you perchance feeling sorry for Tom?"

"Not really. It's unfortunate that any child has to grow up an orphan," she said with a brief glance at Jasmine, "but Riddle's mother was..." Hermione looked a little uncertain at whether she should say what was on her mind, but finally she forged ahead. "Well, frankly, she was a narcissistic rapist, and his father was an egotistical deadbeat. He was probably better off not knowing them."

When Dumbledore blinked at the stark condemnation, Jasmine added, "I grew up not knowing my parents and in horrible conditions, but I managed to not become a mass-murdering psychopath. I'm sorry he had a hard time growing up, but he wasn't forced to become what he did. He chose it."

"I think that perhaps you are bit unkind in your denunciations," Dumbledore said cautiously. "Tom Riddle Sr. was justified in thinking he had been tricked into a relationship and may not have believed the unborn child was his — assuming, of course, that Merope told him about it. And Merope, for all her faults, was desperate for the love of another. I'm quite certain that she loved her son, something which young Tom never seems to have acknowledged."

Both Jasmine and Hermione looked a bit chastened at that, so Dumbledore pressed on. "In fact, his refusal to honor his mother's love is, I believe, one of his weaknesses."

"How so?" Jasmine asked.

"Consider the ritual you were forced to participate in," Dumbledore answered as he looked carefully at her. "What part did his mother play?"

"Well, none that I know of," she replied. "The ritual only called for the bone of the father."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "He was originally conceived in a relationship where there was no true, reciprocal love, and then he had himself reborn with a ritual in which no participant loved him."

"And it can't be irrelevant that his mother was the one from whom he got magic," Hermione added.

Dumbledore nodded. "Merope Gaunt was his only source of true, personal love, even though he never had a chance to experience it. She was also his source of magic, as well as the reason for his being the heir of Slytherin. Yet I've never seen him pay her memory any sort of respect."

"That seems awfully strange," Hermione observed, frowning. "Why would he do that?"

"I truly cannot say for certain," Dumbledore admitted. "However, one thing that I noticed about him, both during his time here at Hogwarts and after, was a lack of respect for witches and what they can do. He obviously underestimated your mother, Miss Potter."

"And he's repeatedly underestimated me as well," Jasmine said.

"Indeed he has," Dumbledore agreed. "There are exceptions, like Bellatrix, but she stands out precisely because her presence in his inner circle is so remarkable. I suspect that it's due to how extreme her professed devotion is." He allowed the two students to ponder that for a few seconds before continuing. "Well, let's take a look at my first memory of young Tom." He stood and placed a memory in the pensieve, then invited the two young witches to join him. They witnessed Dumbledore meeting Tom to tell him about Hogwarts, confronting Tom about his behavior, then leaving.

"That was pretty harsh," Hermione observed.

"Oh?"

"Well," she replied, "it looks like when other orphans did things he didn't like, things that hurt him, he stopped them by dominating them through his magic. Then you came along and said that he needed to stop doing things _you_ didn't like, and you dominated him by demonstrating your far greater magic."

"Yeah," Jasmine agreed. "I'd freak out if someone appeared to be burning up all of my meager possessions like that."

"He never agreed that stealing from others or hurting others was wrong, did he?" Hermione asked. "He submitted to your greater power, all the while biding his time until he had enough power that he could do as he wanted again. In a way, you reinforced a lesson he was already learning: you can force others to bend to your will if you simply have enough power over them. Might makes right."

"Sometimes slapping someone down hard is necessary," Jasmine conceded. "Unavoidable, even."

"Draco Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy," Hermione chimed in.

"Exactly — two good examples," Jasmine went on. "But it won't work if you do it once then walk away — you have to follow up on it until you're certain they've learned their lesson and can make sure the behavior doesn't return."

"You didn't do that, did you, Headmaster?" Hermione asked. "You knew he had a history of hurting other children, then you sent him off to buy a wand — a dangerous, even deadly weapon. Did you warn his head of house? The Headmaster? Anyone?"

"No, I did not," Dumbledore admitted reluctantly, "but I also did not feel that it would be right to prejudice others against the boy. I believed that whatever his misdeeds prior to coming to Hogwarts, he deserved a fresh start. A chance to make a new life unburdened by the problems of his old one."

"We can see what kind of person he is, that's for sure," Jasmine observed. "No friends. No respect for others. He does respect power, though."

"Or at least he fears greater power in others and seeks to have more than anyone else around him," Hermione offered. "Though he might have had good reason — I've heard some awful things about how orphanages used to be run. Did he ever express any fear for his safety? Did he ever ask for means to get away from the orphanage, to not have to go back during the summer?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said regretfully. "Every year he begged to not be sent back."

"Yet you sent him anyway, right? Like you did with me?" Jasmine responded. "Wanting to give him a fresh start was all well and good, but it wasn't so fresh of a start when he had to go back there every summer. And that's assuming he wanted one — I think he grew to enjoy hurting others."

"He attended Hogwarts during the early 1940s, didn't he?" Hermione asked. "That was during World War II, including the Blitz. All the bombing raids in London couldn't have made leaving for the summers any more pleasant. Spending so much time in an environment where he was made to feel weak and afraid — especially at the hands of muggles — would have made him more determined to become powerful enough to never have to fear others again."

"Unfortunately, there are no provisions for allowing students to remain here during the summers," Dumbledore explained. "Nor has the Ministry ever provided any means to protect muggleborn and muggle-raised children outside of Hogwarts." He decided that it was time to change the subject — clearly his students had learned most of the lessons about Tom's personality that he had wanted to convey. He just wished that they hadn't found it necessary to highlight all of _his_ mistakes with Tom in the process.

"There's one more thing that I'd like to discuss before you leave," he said. "Have you given any more thought to the memories of war which I showed you last time?"

"Yes, we both have," Hermione said, "especially after what happened in Hogsmeade."

Dumbledore leaned forward over his desk, looking at them a bit more closely. "I was surprised that you acted so violently in the village when you had so recently witnessed the horrors of similar violence," he said. "It had been my hope that the memories of war would teach you how terrible the costs of violence can be, and thus why they must be avoided."

Hermione frowned. "That was my initial reaction," she admitted, "but then I realized that those memories you showed us don't tell the whole story."

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked, his brow furrowing. "They weren't edited or modified."

"Not deliberately, but the effect is the same," she replied. "Those memories only show the fighting between two sides. They don't show what happens when the attackers are not stopped."

"In Hogsmeade, we heard the werewolves discussing what they intended to do to our friends," Jasmine said. "Things they had already done to others, so we knew they were already guilty of murder, rape, and more."

"If we had failed to stop them, _we'd_ have been partially responsible for them hurting our friends," Hermione said intently. "If we had allowed them to get away, _we'd_ have been partially responsible for all the crimes they went on to commit. So as far as we're concerned, we had an obligation to try to stop them then and there."

"As unpleasant as it all was," Jasmine pointed out, "it was far better than the violence those wizards and werewolves intended to commit."

"You don't sound like you have any regrets or remorse," Dumbledore concluded, no happier about the direction this part of the conversation was taking than the last.

Hermione was starting to look outraged, but Jasmine was the one who answered. "Remorse? No. Regrets? Mainly that we were forced into having to act so drastically in order to protect our friends, and that the adults in wizarding Britain have failed so badly, putting us into that position."

"I've never believed that violence is the only solution," Dumbledore argued, "and that when used, it should only be used as a last resort, after all other options have been completely exhausted. On the occasions that I've had to make that choice in recent years, I have always been greatly saddened by it — and I've often come to regret it later, no matter how justified my actions felt at the time. I would not have resorted to deadly spells in Hogsmeade. I would have used non-lethal spells designed to capture and incapacitate."

"That's nice in theory," Jasmine said a little heatedly, "but what about all those who suffer in the meantime? If you have the ability to end or even prevent their suffering, it's rather unethical to refuse to do so simply because you don't want to get your hands dirty."

"It's not simply that, though I admit that it's not an insignificant factor," Dumbledore said. "I have learned, through great personal hardship, that in the long run violence only begets more violence. First from yourself, because it gets easier to use. The more you use it, the easier it becomes to strike down an opponent rather than reach out to them. That is a dark path which is difficult to escape. Second from others, who learn to resent you for how you wield your power against them — people who could have become allies, had you been patient enough to try to talk and work with them. What's more, it is the innocents — especially bystanders — who suffer the most when powerful forces resort to violence to solve their differences. While violence may seem like an easy and obvious solution to a problem, it tends to make matters worse, not better. A good, just, and productive society cannot be built on violence."

"Actually, Headmaster, I think most societies have used violence in their founding and later in their defense," Hermione said acidly. "And it's rare that significant injustice has been ended without the use of at least some violence."

"Those ideals sound great while we're sitting around drinking tea in your tower," Jasmine added, "but honestly, when was the last time your own life was in danger? When was the last time you couldn't easily defend someone you cared about in a fight? Because of your power and knowledge, it's not hard for _you_ to reach for non-lethal solutions to stop rape and murder. _We_ aren't so lucky."

"When I was fighting for my life and the lives of my parents this summer," Hermione said, her voice rising, "I honestly didn't give any thought to the lives of those Death Eaters. Since _they_ were attacking _us_ , I frankly find it offensive that you would even suggest that I had some moral obligation to protect their lives over our own. Because don't kid yourself: that _is_ what you're saying."

Just then, Jasmine laid a hand softly on her friend's arm, and Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself. "I won't deny that I had a lot of trouble with the idea of using violent spells at first," she went on, "but magical society in Britain isn't all that safe or civilized — which is partly _your_ responsibility, by the way. In this country, my parents and I are targets; when faced with that fact, I discovered that using violent spells wasn't as hard as I thought."

At that, Dumbledore gazed at them sadly, fearing it might already be too late to ever convince them otherwise. "You may indeed have a point," he finally said, remembering his recent conversation with Fleur. "I have been in this tower for many years, and the world does look different from up here than it does when in the middle of a battle for one's life. It's possible that I've lost some necessary perspective." He paused for a long moment, then continued, "I will think on it, but promise me that you'll do the same — that you'll think about the corrosive effect violence can have on social cohesion. About how innocent bystanders can be harmed. Or even fellow victims — what if either of you had missed with your deadly spells the night the Granger home was attacked, and you hit Mr. or Mrs. Granger instead? However justified you may think that violence is in any given moment, you must not ignore the possible consequences of your choices, both to yourselves and to those around you."

A troubled look cross Jasmine's face, but he wasn't sure which of his arguments had affected her so. She didn't appear inclined to talk about it, however, so having secured their agreement to consider his position, he wished them a good night.

After they had gone, the headmaster stood from his desk and walked to the large windows which faced the Hogwarts grounds. As he stared out into the darkness, he wondered whether he had perhaps drunk in this peaceful view a bit too often, and if perhaps it had undermined his ability to see and understand other perspectives. Still, he had to find a way to explain to them — to her — how critical it was that powerful witches and wizards exercise the utmost in self-discipline. How quickly an argument could degenerate when violence wasn't strictly off the table. How easily a lost temper could spiral out of control, and the terrible consequences...

Over in the corner, Fawkes began to croon consolingly.

* * *

Neither witch spoke as they made their way back to their dorm — too many prying eyes and ears these days — but Jasmine noticed her girlfriend giving her covert glances as they walked, so she wasn't surprised when Hermione automatically joined her behind the silenced curtains as they readied for bed. Fortunately, she seemed to have calmed down a bit by then.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked without preamble, laying a hand on her own. "It seemed like something he said upset you there at the end."

 _ **Me?**_ Jasmine thought. _Pot, meet kettle!_ Aloud, she said, "Oh, it's just... I was thinking about the fight at your house — when I saw that Death Eater torturing your mum and had to get him off her."

Hermione's face darkened. "Don't tell me you buy his argument that we should have stuck to useless spells whenever our friends are tortured and raped!" she flared. "While my **mum** was tortured and nearly raped! I swear, another minute of that tripe and I'd have given _him_ some violent spells...!"

"Whoa, easy," Jasmine said, raising a hand soothingly. "I'm not saying anything like that. It's just that some of the other stuff he said... well, he does have a point." When Hermione looked about ready to explode again, she hastily went on, "Wait, hear me out. When I came into your house that night, the Death Eater was across the room, attacking your mum. I used a Perforation Hex on him — nothing too awful, but I had to be sure not to hit her accidentally, so I took an extra second to aim. That was when I got hit myself, remember?"

Hermione nodded grudgingly, a little calmer now.

"Well, it occurred to me that the more sure you have to be that you don't hit somebody you care about, the more you potentially put yourself at risk. Which kind of ties into what Dumbledore was saying." When Hermione didn't respond, she continued, "On top of that, without even trying, I cast that hex with so much power that it killed him anyway. ...Well, that and, um, the fact that I apparently aimed for his face, though I don't remember that part too well. Anyway, I can't help but think about what would have happened if I had missed and clipped your mum instead. Even if it didn't kill her outright, it might have done more damage than I could fix myself, especially with a live Death Eater still in front of me and you in trouble in the kitchen. Same with those silver arrows we used in Hogsmeade — what if we'd hit one of our friends?"

She could tell by Hermione's expression that she had finally gotten through to her. "The point is, I did everything right in that moment and it turned out OK, but I still got injured myself — and how often do you do everything right in a fight? It's sort of sobering, that's all — I hadn't thought about it in those terms before."

Hermione exhaled heavily, her rage of a moment before gone as swiftly as it had come. "So basically what you're saying is, we're damned if we do and damned if we don't."

"Pretty much, yeah," Jasmine replied. "Oh, and language, by the way."

The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched. "And with that, I think I'll say goodnight. I've got a whole new batch of nightmares to attend to — best to get cracking!" Her smile was brittle as she leaned in for a quick kiss.

"Hey, now..." Jasmine said, pulling her into a tight embrace instead. She murmured softly as she stroked her brown hair until she finally felt her relax.

"Thanks," Hermione said quietly against her shoulder. "I guess I needed that. It's been a rough night."

* * *

 **Sunday, October 10, 1995, Late Afternoon.**

Jasmine looked out over the crowd, impressed with both how many students had come to the first mass DA meeting and with the ability of the Room of Requirement to accommodate them all. There was even enough room for them all to start practicing, though that wouldn't happen if they couldn't get the administrative issues dealt with.

"Quiet!" she shouted, getting everyone to finally shut up and pay attention. "I know you're all here to learn how to defend yourselves against dark wizards. Unfortunately, if we're going to do this right, we need to get properly organized first. Since you're already mostly grouped by house, a couple of your housemates will come by with a piece of parchment for you to sign. This will do two things: it tells us how many people we're working with, and it's a promise on your part not to talk to any outsiders about this group or anything you learn here."

"Why do we have to sign such a thing?" came a voice. "We didn't when we started this last term. Don't you trust us?" It was Justin Finch-Fletchley, one of the more annoying wizards in the current group of fifth-year students.

"Tell me, Justin," Jasmine asked, "do you unequivocally trust everyone here? Not just your fellow Hufflepuffs, but _everyone?"_ When he looked around, he seemed to realize that there were quite a few others from different houses that he didn't even know, much less trust.

When Justin answered with a shake of his head, Jasmine went on, "Maybe someday you will, but right now it would be ridiculous if you did. So this protects you as much as it protects me or a Slytherin standing on the other side of the room. You all know that unauthorized groups are banned. Technically we haven't violated the ban because this is our first meeting — if we meet again, then we'd be in violation and in theory could all be expelled."

Jasmine let that threat hang in the air for a few moments. "I obviously don't want to be expelled, and I'm sure you don't, either. However, I also want you all to be able to protect yourselves if you're attacked. Signing those sheets is the best way we have of achieving both because it will prevent anyone here from telling someone like Umbridge about us. This security measure isn't perfect, but it's the best we've been able to come up with. If you don't like it, either provide something better or leave."

Quite a few students seemed to be unhappy with that ultimatum, though more witches than wizards appeared willing to trust her because of their involvement in S.P.E.W.

It was Cedric, now in his final year, who spoke out in defense of Jasmine. "Listen up, you lot," he said. "I trust her, and if she trusts the security that they're using, then I'll trust it, too. She's at least told you what she's doing and offered to use a better idea if you have one, which is more than most would do. I, for one, have no problem signing this sheet," he declared, putting action to words.

"What happens if we sign and still talk to others?" Zacharias Smith asked a little belligerently.

Jasmine smirked. "I'm not going to say anything that could help those who might want to get around the security. You won't die, but you won't like what happens to you, either. If you don't squeal on us, you'll be fine."

Once the parchments had all been signed and double-checked, Jasmine got their attention again. "You should all be practicing a couple of times each week in your house — the ability to meet and practice in your common rooms is a loophole you need to exploit while you still can before Umbridge finds a way to close it. These mass meetings will be used to introduce new spells and to provide extra help to anyone who needs it. Today, though, the first thing we'll do is to have everyone cast some of the basics to show that they can or so they can get help if they can't."

There was more than a bit of grumbling, but soon everyone was lined up facing a different wall and casting basic spells that could be used in a fight: stunners, disarming charms, reductor curses, and banishing charms. Some of this had been part of their first lessons at the end of the previous term, but they had a lot of new people, and it was a sure bet that few had had any chance to practice since then.

Quite a few students had trouble casting one or more of the spells consistently, and while Jasmine tried not to make them feel bad about it, she did point out that that was why they were reviewing the basics. "Just because they're basic spells doesn't mean you're already experts with them," she kept saying. "That requires lots of practice."

Once everyone seemed comfortable with the essentials, Jasmine and her friends began teaching them the blasting and explosive blasting hexes, which were fifth- and sixth-year spells. Even some of the older students had trouble with those, but by the end of the second hour, almost everyone was able to cast both, at least some of the time. Some had even started casting them at moving targets created by the Room, thus allowing them to work on their accuracy.

"Alright everyone," Jasmine announced at the end, "You're all doing well. Keep practicing with your housemates and this will go even faster next time. Well, assuming there is a next time. And if there is one, you'll be contacted."

"What do you mean, if?" Smith asked. "Why wouldn't there be a next time?" Jasmine rolled her eyes while Padma went over to explain to her fellow Ravenclaw about the concept of "plausible deniability."

"Now I see why she was so disillusioned with her house last term," Jasmine muttered to herself.

* * *

Severus Snape sat alone in his darkened quarters as he considered what he'd learned over the past week. He'd expected to get more information about the witches who'd taken down the strike team that had attacked Hogsmeade, but in the process he'd discovered that they all knew at least the basics of Occlumency — not enough to keep out a determined probe, and certainly not enough to keep out someone as skilled as him, but more than enough to detect any intrusion strong enough to sift through background memories.

Fortunately he'd been on guard for such a thing, so with a light touch, and after the right verbal promptings to encourage them to think about the subjects he wanted, he'd finally garnered a little bit of intelligence.

He had a list of names, which only included a couple more names than what he'd already had. He also had confirmation that Potter was involved, though he wasn't sure how. More than one of the witches' thoughts suggested that Potter had been teaching them, but that didn't seem at all likely, given how generally incompetent she was.

 _Potter!_ he almost spat as he thought about how much grief she'd given him ever since she'd arrived at Hogwarts. _My oaths prevent me from knowingly endangering her, so there's nothing I can do to point the Dark Lord's ire in her direction — though he could hardly hate her more than he already does. My oaths also prevent me from giving the Dark Lord any new information without the Headmaster's approval. ...However, that doesn't mean that I can't confirm what he already knows and suspects. It also doesn't prevent me from leading another to provide the Dark Lord with relevant information. I can't hurt the little brat, but if I can cause her friends to become targets, I can make her miserable._

 _Pity that a couple of them are from my own house_ , _but they brought it on themselves when they dared stand against the Dark Lord's servants. They should have known better than to get involved with the Girl Who Lived anyway._

* * *

 **Sunday, October 10, 1995, Evening.**

Lufestre Gydenna sat nervously waiting for her friend and queen. The last time she'd been summoned like this, she'd found herself named as a special envoy to the veela and was travelling to visit their Theledrion two days later. The next time she'd met with the queen was when she'd returned from that trip, and during that meeting the queen had put her in charge of dealing with the veela when they sent their own envoys. That visit had lasted a month, and she'd spent all her time helping with negotiations while trying to explain cultural and religious differences to both sides.

 _I'm a priestess, not a politician!_ she fumed silently. She was certain that she wasn't going to like whatever it was her queen had in mind this time, but she was just as certain that she wasn't going to be able to say no. Even if she weren't being asked to do things that would help her people, she was being asked by one of her oldest childhood friends. _Though that doesn't give her the right to rope me into things I know nothing about_. _Surely there are more qualified..._

"Knut for your thoughts," came a voice from behind her.

Lufestre jumped out of her seat in surprise, then bowed when she saw it was Hellraiser II who'd managed to sneak up behind her. "It's nothing," she answered. "Just, uh, wondering why I was summoned."

When cups of hot chojo had been poured and pieces of swétan served, Hellraiser finally said, "Yes, I'm sure you were thinking that. And probably throwing in a few unflattering comments about myself, as well, hmm?" Lufestre refused to say anything, which was more than answer enough.

"Well, you're probably right to do so," the queen continued, "because I have another mission for you." Lufestre choked slightly on the sip of chojo she'd just taken. "This one, however, might be a bit more to your liking since it involves the Goddess."

Now the queen had her full attention. "What sort of mission could you possibly have in mind?" she asked.

In response, the queen handed her several pieces of parchment. "I know you read the preliminary reports on the rituals that were held in that forest near Hogwarts. This is a summary of our most recent information on the effects of those rituals, both to the surrounding land and to those who participated. Read it, then we'll talk."

The information wasn't extensive, only requiring a dozen pieces of parchment, but Lufestre read it through several times, having trouble believing what she was seeing. After nearly half an hour, she finally began to speak. "This is... this is hard to believe. This is much more than what they gave us originally."

"Indeed. Not only is there new information there, but there's information that I think they were holding back before. Taken together... well, it puts things in a new light, doesn't it?"

"That's putting it mildly! Are you sure that this information is true?"

The queen nodded. "This was submitted as part of their new treaty obligations, and that means it is covered under their magically binding promise not to lie. They can withhold information in some situations, but they cannot tell an outright falsehood, so while this still might not be the whole truth, it is the truth."

"I've served in our temples almost my whole life, and I've dedicated myself to the service of the Goddess, but I have trouble believing that... well... that anyone might serve as _vessels_ of any goddesses, never mind that two young witches might do so."

"At least they admit that they cannot prove this, but think back to what you told me about your reactions when you first met their Theledrion. Then remember that that was _weeks_ after the ritual in question."

Lufestre did stop to think back, remembering feelings that she had sought to deny because they had been so contrary to what she expected from the world around her. "My feelings at the time hardly qualify as proof," she said as she shook her head.

"No, but they are an interesting bit of data," Hellraiser argued. "Your reaction and words at the time were untainted by the theory contained in that report. Your response was completely honest... and it made a lot of sense, if the theory in that report is correct."

Lufestre sighed. "Perhaps, though I can't imagine how anyone would ever be able to prove this idea. And what does it have to do with me, anyway?"

Hellraiser smiled as she took another sip of chojo. "They want to do it again, this time at another ancient magical site in Britain. One with a significant ley line running beneath it." Lufestre gaped at her queen. "In fact, they want to do it at several sites, if they can. Since they have no power or presence in Britain, they have asked us if we would be able to ward and guard the sites. It will require some creative interpretations of our treaty with the British Ministry, but I think we can get away with it."

"And... and me?" Lufestre asked, afraid she already knew the answer.

"Isn't it obvious? I'd like you to go as my official representative. I'd like your opinion, as both High Priestess and as a special envoy, of the ritual, its effects, of those two witches... of everything."

Lufestre let the rest of her uneaten swétan drop to her plate and slumped a bit in her chair. "I don't have to participate with them, do I? I mean, you do know that those harpies tend to do these rituals in the nude?" The queen smiled at her when she looked up, and she shuddered.

"No, not if you don't want to," Hellraiser responded. "But if you change your mind, I won't judge. Honest."

Lufestre wondered if it would be considered a capital crime to throw a swétan at her monarch.


	23. Wicked Old Witch

**A/N:** Thank you, everyone, for favoriting and following — and especially for the reviews. I like to read people's reactions to the plot and characters as they progress. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. Remember that if you have any questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Fanart!** A regular reader named Alice recently created fanart that was inspired by Jasmine and Hermione:

majinssketchbook. deviantart art/Jasmine-and-Hermione-fan-art-597873354

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Divided and Entwined" by Starfox5. The good news is, Fudge believes that Voldemort is back; the bad news is, he thinks appeasement is the best way of dealing with the problem. Sacrificing the muggleborn is worth avoiding another costly war, right? Still in progress, but updated weekly.

* * *

 **Chapter 23 - Wicked Old Witch**

 **Monday, October 11, 1995, Morning.**

"Alright, you've had over a week — give me some good news," Amelia Bones said.

"I'm afraid we don't have much of that," Rufus Scrimgeour admitted. "Every attacker seems to have had a timed portkey. Well, every one of them but the three werewolves. Some of the witness descriptions are consistent with Travers and Mulciber, both of whom were among the recent escapees from Azkaban."

"What do we know about the three werewolves?"

"Loners and drifters," Scrimgeour replied. "Standard story for that lot. We suspect that they were off-and-on members of a pack hiding in Wales."

"Despite Fudge's use of Sirius Black as a catch-all boogeyman, he won't approve of a broader search for clues," Moira O'Connor observed. "It's almost as if he knows You-Know-Who is back and doesn't want to do anything which might bring forward real proof."

"Yes, isn't it?" Bones said dryly. "Is that all you have, after more than a week?"

"Aside from the fact that the witches who took them all down did pretty well for themselves, I'm afraid so," Scrimgeour said.

Bones sighed. "Very well, keep at it."

* * *

When Jasmine, Hermione, and the others approached the Great Hall for breakfast, they once again found a large group of students gathered around what appeared to be a new Educational Decree. Slipping through gaps in the crowd, they discovered Umbridge supervising Filch, who was attaching Decree Number Twenty-Nine to the wall.

"'All extracurricular activities are subject to review by the Chief Inquisitor'?" Hermione read aloud, wondering how this might impact the loopholes they'd managed to find in her last decree.

" _All_ extracurricular activities?" Jasmine asked. "Every single one?"

"Absolutely," Umbridge confirmed. "It doesn't matter what type, how often it occurs, or where it occurs."

"That seems awfully broad," Hermione observed.

"Why, do you have something to hide?" Umbridge asked with narrowed eyes.

"So, when I meet my girlfriend in a broom cupboard," a voice that sounded suspiciously like one of the twins' said, "do you need to actually be there to review my performance? Or can I submit a written report later that describes how amazing I was?"

"What?" Umbridge exclaimed. "I would never...!"

"Maybe you should have your girlfriend submit a report as well," came a voice that sounded like the other twin's. "You know, so the Chief Inquisitor has a second opinion."

"Better that than to have someone actually there, telling me what I'm doing wrong," came the first voice.

"Yeah," agreed the second, "since your girlfriend will already be doing that, it would be rather redundant."

"Why, you... you..." Umbridge stammered.

"Madam Umbridge," came Dumbledore's voice. "What's this I hear about you trying to join our students during their, ah, amorous activities outside of class?"

"That's completely untrue!" Umbridge protested.

"Really?" Dumbledore asked skeptically. He made a show of examining the new Educational Decree, then looked back at her. "Your new decree certainly seems to encompass exactly such activities. There's no denying that they are very, hm, active, after all."

"If you're doing it right, they are," one of the twins stage-whispered, and Jasmine thought she saw Dumbledore forcing back a laugh.

"And they certainly aren't any part of the curriculum that I'm aware of," Dumbledore continued as he turned to his deputy. "You aren't teaching any of the students what to do in broom cupboards, are you, Professor McGonagall?"

"I should say not!" McGonagall replied primly. "And I'm quite disappointed in you, Madam Umbridge, trying to insinuate yourself into the students' romantic liaisons like that. Have you no decency?"

Umbridge was too shocked to even complain about not having been called "Chief Inquisitor." Instead of trying to argue, she ripped the decree off the wall and stomped back to her office.

Once she was gone, some of the students noticed a twinkle in both Dumbledore's and McGonagall's eyes.

* * *

 **Friday, October 15, 1995, Morning.**

Jasmine and Hermione were kept from getting into breakfast by yet another Educational Decree being posted outside the Great Hall. This one, Number Forty-Seven, stated: "Students must consent to have their post checked for illegal contraband."

"Number Forty-Seven?" Hermione asked in bewilderment. "That can't be right. On Monday it was only Number Twenty-Nine!"

"Do you think you can number the Educational Decrees better than the Ministry?" Umbridge asked dangerously. "Do you believe that someone with your unfortunate heritage understands numbers better than Ministry experts?"

Hermione was prevented from responding by Jasmine grabbing her arm and squeezing hard before she dragged the indignant Gryffindor into the Great Hall.

"Why did you do that?" Hermione demanded. "They're obviously numbering things wrong!"

"Instead of worrying about their insane pureblood numbering," Jasmine responded, "you should pay more attention to the content of the decree. They're going to be checking all the mail!"

"I saw that," Hermione retorted. "That was even more absurd than the numbering. Students _must_ consent? If consent isn't an option, how is it even consent? And there wasn't even any penalty to _not_ consenting. It's completely absurd! I'd have complained about that, but Umbridge would have given me a detention — she can't do that quite so easily if I'm talking about the numbers, but I still get to point out how stupid they're being."

"Whatever," Jasmine said. "Do you think maybe Umbridge was responsible for Hedwig getting hurt?"

Hermione stopped and thought for a moment. "That is possible. She's effectively admitted that she wants to monitor our mail."

Before that conversation could continue, owls descended upon the Great Hall — including two carrying a large package and heading directly for Luna.

"Is that what I think it is, Luna?" Neville asked. Luna just nodded, so eager was she to open the package and start pulling out copies of the _Quibbler_.

"Looks like Umbridge's scheme to read everyone's mail hasn't been implemented yet," Jasmine noted.

"Good thing, too," Neville replied. "Otherwise we wouldn't have gotten these."

"It looks like daddy sent everyone's subscriptions together in this package," Luna said as she read a note that had been included.

"That might seem reasonable," Hermione said, "but you should probably tell him to not do that next time. It's easier to confiscate one package than dozens of separate packages."

Luna nodded thoughtfully. "You're right, under the circumstances. I'll let him know."

"It's a shame that we couldn't get more in here about our resident Chief Inquisitor," Jasmine lamented as she flipped through her copy.

"Umbridge hadn't done much before we had to meet the deadline," Hermione reminded her. "Unfortunately, by next time I'm sure Luna will have plenty of material for an article." Luna looked up and smiled brightly. "In the meantime, I think her article on the Ministry is pretty good. And her father's article on Umbridge's history is a good starting point, too."

"So, any bets on how long it will be until she reads this issue?" Jasmine asked the table at large.

* * *

 **Saturday, October 16, 1995, Afternoon.**

Jasmine and Hermione had decided to forego visiting Hogsmeade in favor of training, figuring that it was unlikely that there would be another attack so soon. They were right, but they still ended up regretting their decision. When they got to Professor McGonagall's office in order to travel with Professor Flitwick, they learned that two students had been nearly killed on the road between the castle and Hogsmeade: their fellow Gryffindor Katie Bell and Cedric Diggory.

"She was carrying a large, expensive necklace," McGonagall explained. "Her friend Leanne said that she had gone to the bathroom, then abruptly left the Three Broomsticks with an unfamiliar package. Leanne followed and argued with Katie. At some point Katie touched what was in the package and started convulsing. Mr. Diggory and Miss Chang were on their way to Hogsmeade when they saw this, but when Mr. Diggory tried to help, he touched what was in the package as well. Both were severely injured by a nasty curse."

"What was in the package?" Jasmine asked.

"A cursed necklace. Opal and diamonds, I believe," she replied. "Miss Bell and Mr. Diggory are both in St. Mungo's, and it's expected that they'll be there for quite some time before they recover.

Hermione and Jasmine both gasped. At their professor's inquiring look, Jasmine described seeing such a necklace in Borgin & Burke's, followed by Hermione's account of what they'd heard Nott saying in the same store. They also explained how they'd been keeping an eye on him, noticing that he'd been looking worse and worse as the term progressed.

McGonagall looked pensive. "That's hardly proof of involvement, much less guilt, but it does present a suspicious picture. We believe that Katie was under the Imperius Curse and ordered to use the necklace to kill someone in the castle. I'll start keeping a closer eye on Mr. Nott myself. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

They were soon joined by Professor Flitwick, but instead of heading out the floo with him, they were given a surprise: it was McGonagall who would start training them while Flitwick stayed behind to cover for them all.

According to the two professors, the girls had progressed enough that they now deserved training in higher-level transfiguration and how to use it in a fight. "You can do a lot with curses, hexes, and charms," McGonagall explained, "but in some ways you can do more with transfiguration." She smiled at the slight huff that came from Flitwick. "With transfiguration, all of the debris on a battlefield can become tools for attack and defense, and what you create is limited only by your skill, power, and imagination."

Neither of the younger witches had any idea how the ability to transform buttons into beetles would help them in a fight, but they were in the rocky training area only a few minutes before they learned how valuable transfiguration could be. After gathering up a pile of pebbles, Professor McGonagall transfigured some of them into a pride of lions that could be commanded to attack, others into a wall to defend, and still more into pointed missiles that could be banished into the enemy.

"Wow," was all the two could say as they witnessed why their professor was an acclaimed Mistress of Transfiguration and so highly regarded in her field. She moved her wand like a conductor in front of an orchestra, but instead of directing music, she was calling forth destruction against potential enemies. Fortunately she hadn't conjured any pigs to serve as targets, deciding to leave that for a later lesson.

"It takes power and skill to transfigure small objects into larger objects," she told them. "It takes even more to turn inanimate objects into anything animate, particularly large mammals. It takes still more to apply charms that will have the animals attack, especially to attack specific types of targets. With experience, you'll learn how to apply the charms during the transfiguration process rather than as a separate step afterwards. Fortunately, you two seem to have power to spare, but you'll need to learn how to use that power with greater precision. Otherwise, you'll wear yourselves out after only a few transfigurations."

Jasmine and Hermione's skepticism turned into eagerness as their professor walked them through the process of first transfiguring a random stone into a large mammal, then a mass transfiguration of many stones into many animals at the same time. Needless to say, it was much, much harder to do than she had made it look. The girls barely managed to transfigure one stone into a lion, and even that didn't look quite right. The less said about the results of their first attempts at mass transfiguration, the better.

"Mass transfiguration of large mammals — especially if you include compulsion charms to direct behavior — requires time, concentration, and power," McGonagall explained. "This means it's costly, a cost that can quickly lead to your defeat if you're in the middle of a fight and deadly spells are being cast at you. So why do it?"

"Because if you can do it successfully," Hermione answered, "you force your opponents to divide their attention among multiple targets. If they ignore the attacking animals, they will be mauled. If they ignore you, they get cursed. If they try to do something to take out all of the animals, that will take a lot of effort and power on their part."

"Correct. When would be a good time to use this tactic?"

"When you're safe behind some cover," Jasmine said. "Or when someone can provide covering fire for you."

"When you're outnumbered and need to even the odds," Hermione added. "Or when you need a distraction so you can escape."

"All good answers for different reasons," McGonagall said. "Mass transfiguration can be invaluable in a fight, but it's hard to use if you are alone. It's much easier if you have at least one other ally who can provide cover and defense while the transfigurations are being performed. Since there are two of you, and since it's likely that you both will end up fighting again, it would be wise for you to start thinking about how you could best work together. That would include how you might include mass transfiguration in the future, once you learn how to do it."

* * *

 **Sunday, October 17, 1995, Late Morning.**

Once the wizards had left at the end of training, Fleur addressed the study group witches about something she was sure they had all been anticipating. "As you may know," she said, "zere is an important magical holiday at ze end of zis month: Samhain. Can I assume zat you are all interested in participating?"

If the eager looks on all their faces hadn't been enough of an answer, the squeals of delight surely were. "Even my auntie tries to do something on Samhain," Susan chimed in to say. "That's how important the holiday is. But I've always wanted to have a chance to participate in a full ritual celebration."

"Bon, I am glad to hear zat. However, would you accept a change of venue? Our rituals have done wonders to help ze forest — so much so, in fact, that my maman has suggested zat we start holding ze rituals at other important magical sites around Britain."

"Is it that big of a deal?" Jasmine asked.

"Ze forest here has been transformed far more than you may know. Most if not all of ze dark creatures are gone now while life is flourishing as never before," Fleur answered. "Hogsmeade is a little more magical, with all ze enchantments strengthened. All zose who participated in Beltane are a bit taller, stronger, and more powerful magically. And zat is simply what is most obvious. Zere might be more zat we cannot detect." Most of the girls looked at each other in surprise — they knew that there had been changes, but not that they were so extensive.

"Where did you have in mind that we go?" Hermione asked.

"Actually, it would be a bit more complicated zis time around," Fleur explained. "We have a site picked out in Cornwall, an ancient stone circle known as ze Merry Maidens. One of ze reasons why we picked it is because it's one of ze closest sites to Godric's Hollow." She turned to Jasmine and said, "If I remember correctly, you have never been given a chance to visit your parents' graves, non?" All Jasmine could do was shake her head as a welter of emotions rose up inside of her.

"Well," Fleur continued, "Samhain would be a good time for zat. If you would like, we could go zere first to hold a small, private ceremony, then join ze others at ze Merry Maidens."

"How would we do all that travelling?" Daphne asked.

"Portkeys," Fleur answered.

"But they're highly restricted!" Susan objected. "That's why we can't get emergency portkeys for students' families."

"I have a source," Fleur replied cryptically. "I cannot use my source to supply your needs, but I can use it in a limited fashion for zis."

"Will it be just you, or..." Hannah trailed off, uncertain of how to word her question.

"I have not talked to Professor McGonagall, but I will, and I expect she will agree. There will be a number of veela at ze ritual, too, like last time."

"What did you say this place was?" Daphne asked. "Merry something?"

"Merry Maidens. Ze muggles in Cornwall call it zat because ze nineteen stones zat make up ze circle were once said to have been nineteen maidens who were turned to stone for dancing on a Sunday. Ze site is about four or five thousand years old."

"Sounds like an appropriate place for our first ritual outside of Hogwarts," Tracey observed, getting a smile and nod in return from Fleur.

"Won't the Ministry object?" Susan asked.

"Ze Ministry does not control it," Fleur answered. "Ze site is magical, and rituals like ours were performed there for hundreds if not thousands of years, but ze current Ministry has no interest in it. Zey cannot, not given how long zey have disparaged rituals."

"What about the muggles?" Hermione asked. "If I remember correctly, muggles who try to respect or even follow ancient pagan beliefs tend to hold their own rituals on or near these sites."

"We know about zem," Fleur said, "and we will be taking steps to keep ze muggles away for ze night. We would not even try to do zis otherwise."

One by one, all of the witches agreed to the plan. As exciting as the rituals in the forest had been, the possibility of doing one on an ancient site of magical power was even more thrilling. Most were worried about getting caught, but decided the risk was minimal if they were also accompanied by staff.

Jasmine was the last to agree because she was a bit choked up at the prospect of finally getting a chance to see her parents' graves. It was something she'd always wanted to do, but she'd avoided thinking too much about it because she had no idea how she'd manage it. The Dursleys had certainly never offered — and probably would have laughed if she'd asked.

* * *

 **Monday, October 18, 1995, Morning.**

When the Gryffindors descended the steps to the Entrance Hall, none of them were surprised to see a crowd which had come to signal the appearance of yet another Educational Decree from the Ministry. Students had been discussing the latest issue of the Quibbler all weekend, and there had been reports that its stories were generating a lot of attention outside Hogwarts, too.

Jasmine and Hermione had known that it was only a matter of time before Umbridge took action against a publication which challenged her, Fudge, and the Ministry. Her opening salvo was Educational Decree Number Twenty-Seven: "Students and staff are prohibited from possessing the magazine _The Quibbler_. Any student found in possession of the magazine _The Quibbler_ will be expelled."

"It's a good thing Luna knows which students get the _Quibbler_ and ensured that they know the right spells for disguising it to look like something else," Jasmine said in a low voice.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, "but it only protects them for this issue. It won't help in the future if Umbridge is searching the mail and able to keep upcoming issues out."

"We'll worry about that later," Neville advised. "As long as students can keep the current issue and discuss the stories about the Ministry, it's a victory."

* * *

 **Wednesday, October 20, 1995, Morning.**

Apparently, Umbridge figured out that her ban on the _Quibbler_ wasn't going to accomplish anything if she couldn't find any issues of it because students could still discuss it. In her eyes, discussing mistakes by the Ministry was tantamount to treason, thus explaining the reasoning behind the appearance of Educational Decree Number Forty-One: "Students may not discuss the upsetting events of last year. Anyone found doing so will be punished."

"So, what, I can't talk about how awful my Yule Ball date was?" Padma exclaimed.

"What? What happened?" Hermione asked.

Padma scowled. "He was a complete berk! He ignored me for half the night, then he went off and started dancing with some slag from France!"

Parvati put one arm around her sister's shoulders. "A lot of the Durmstrang wizards were rude. Well, except for Viktor, I guess."

"That's just not right," Ron muttered. "You should have told us. We'd have done something about him." The twins gave him approving nods.

"Did you notice how vague that one was?" Hermione asked Jasmine as they walked into breakfast. "It doesn't specify which events nor does it explain what the punishments are. I guess there are limits to how far those terms can be stretched, but in the hands of a petty, tyrannical bureaucrat they would be easy to abuse."

"And who do we know that fits that description?" Ginny asked rhetorically, looking up at the staff table where Umbridge sat, looking smug as ever.

"She's starting to react more quickly and to spot loopholes faster," Jasmine observed darkly.

* * *

 **Friday, October 22, 1995, Night.**

After finishing their mind magics practice, Hermione hesitated before returning to her bed to sleep. "Jasmine?" she asked. "Can we talk for a minute about Samhain?"

"Sure, what's on your mind?"

"Do you want to... I mean... well, how would you feel about using that night to finalize our bond?"

Jasmine looked at her quizzically. "Why then? It seems a bit... I dunno, creepy, doesn't it?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not really. Pureheart has a lot to say about ritual celebrations. I'll get the book for you, but the short version is that some believe that the goddesses are especially active on that date, like on Beltane, and so sex on that date can be especially significant. Not as significant as Beltane, or in some ways even as significant as other dates dealing with fertility, but it's still an important day. And the date isn't all about death, either, even though that's what's associated with it in the popular imagination."

"OK," Jasmine said slowly, "so maybe it isn't creepy. I'll have to think about that part. But why that day — is it because some believe the goddesses are active or something?"

"No, not at all. Honestly, it was originally a gut feeling that it would be a good date for it. I didn't have any evidence or arguments, just a strong feeling. And you know that I don't like to depend on them like you do, so I did research and some thinking. It occurred to me that you visiting your parents graves might help fulfill at least part of what that serpent said — you know, overcome the burdens of the past. Also, we'd have to do it here at Hogwarts, but if we set it up right, it would mean three events that night: one in Godric's Hollow to honor your parents, one at the Merry Maidens to honor all of those who have passed on, and then one here that would be about a new beginning for the two of us. It's also the anniversary of when our friendship solidified."

"So," Jasmine said, "we honor the past, shed some baggage that we've allowed ourselves to be burdened with, then finally make a new start for ourselves?"

"Right," Hermione said, her eyes brighter.

Jasmine stared at her for a long moment. "You do know that, uh, once we finalize the bond — once we truly are bonded and not simply developing a bond — that we'll be as good as married? I mean, not legally or anything, but still..."

Hermione's eyes widened for a moment, then she slumped slightly. "No, actually, I hadn't. I guess... well, since it's not legal or official or anything, I've never thought about it in such terms. I honestly only thought about how handy it would be to do it on that date. But you're right."

"It's a big step," Jasmine said softly.

"No kidding, it's a big step," Hermione agreed. "And it's a permanent one, too."

"No take-backs. We can't change our minds, and it really is 'til death do us part.'"

"On some level, the idea of finalizing our bond seems... natural," Hermione said. "I mean, we're already developing it, and we intend to finalize it eventually. It's the natural culmination of the relationship we've been building for the last year — the last four years, in fact. But marriage... that sounds so much more serious, especially since there isn't even a theoretical option of divorce. And we're not even of age yet." Suddenly she got a horrified expression and slapped a hand over her face. "Ugh! I don't even want to _think_ about what my parents would say...!"

Jasmine rubbed her shoulder sympathetically. "On the other hand... if we're old enough to be developing something as significant as a soul bond," she mused, "I mean, isn't marriage almost beside the point? Didn't you say that magical marriage bonds are a pale imitation of a soul bond?"

"There is that," Hermione conceded. _Funny how permanently uniting our_ _ **souls**_ _together seems "natural,"_ she thought, _yet bring up the word "marriage" and somehow it's such a shock!_ As she sat there considering all the ramifications, weighing the arguments for and against going through with this, especially now, she glanced over at Jasmine... and it dawned on her that she was going about this all wrong. This was not a decision she could make by toting up the pros and cons. In fact, the only choice to be made had been decided long ago, and she wasn't about to change her mind now.

 _In for a knut, in for a galleon,_ she thought resolutely. _And this was my idea, after all._

With that, she reached out and grasped Jasmine's left hand with her own. When she felt their promise rings touch, she said formally, "Jasmine Dorea Potter, will you marry me? Even if it's not official?"

Jasmine's smile was wide as she met Hermione's gaze squarely and said, "Hermione Jean Granger, yes, I will marry you, officially or unofficially, til death do us part." Her eyes shone when she added, "And because I know our love will unite us in a way that far outstrips the ability of any government to regulate, control, or even understand."

When the two witches kissed, the glow of their magic and souls warmed them in a manner that they hadn't ever experienced before, and they knew for certain that they were doing the right thing.

"So," Hermione said when they pulled apart, "Samhain?"

Jasmine nodded. "But we should check with Fleur to see if she agrees it will work out alright, or in case we need to do something special."

* * *

 **Sunday, October 24, 1995, Evening.**

"Ron, I can't believe you ate five helpings!" Jasmine exclaimed. "And that was just the desserts!"

"What can I say, I'm a growing boy," Ron retorted as they waited for the stairs to swing in their direction.

"You'll be growing sideways if you keep this up," Jasmine muttered.

"Nah," Ron said, "Weasleys stay pretty thin. Besides, no one said you had to wait for me to finish dinner."

"Of course I had to — I don't feel comfortable walking by myself too much while Umbridge is around. I'll do it when I have to, but I don't if I can avoid it. I want witnesses if she tries anything."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot," Ron replied, staring at his feet as they started down the corridor to the Gryffindor common room.

"Since Hermione went to the library with Padma, and Neville and Ginny left early to do who-knows-what," Jasmine continued, "you were the only one left that I wanted to be around by the time I was done."

"Sorry," Ron said, looking a little sheepish. "I wonder why those two left dinner so early, though?"

A noise from their right drew their attention, and when they looked into the shadows of an alcove, they discovered why Neville and Ginny had left early.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing with my sister?" Ron demanded, balling up his fists as his ears turned red. Neville took a step backwards from the enraged Weasley. In focusing on Neville, however, Ron failed to notice that he had an enraged Weasley of his own to deal with.

That oversight was rectified when he abruptly found a glowing wand point about two inches from his nose. "What do you think **you're** doing, brother?" Ginny asked dangerously. Jasmine shook her head. _Even I know better than to rile her up like that_ , she thought, _and I didn't grow up with her!_

"Ginny," Ron pleaded, "you shouldn't be—"

"I'll do as I wish, Ronald," Ginny interrupted. "It's none of your business what I do with my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Ron exclaimed. "Since when do you have a boyfriend?"

"That's none of your business, either," Ginny said. "All you need to know is that Neville and I are together now."

Jasmine looked at Neville, who still seemed nervous, but he smiled shyly when she shot him a quick grin and a congratulatory thumbs-up. Her support seemed to give him a little more confidence, though he still wisely stayed out of the siblings' confrontation.

"Does Mum know?" Ron asked. "If she finds out that you've been—"

"If Mum finds out anything about who I'm dating or what I do on my dates," Ginny hissed, "I'll know **exactly** who told her. And remember, brother dearest, that you're locked in this castle with me for ten months of the year. You'll only have Mum to hide behind for two months at best. You do the math."

With that, she pulled her wand back, walked over to Neville, gave him a long kiss, then dragged him down the corridor to the common room.

"Girls are all mental," Ron muttered.

" _Excuse_ me?" Jasmine asked, one eyebrow arched high.

"Nothing, nothing! I just don't know why my little sister is in such a rush to grow up. She shouldn't be snogging blokes in alcoves like that. She'll get a reputation."

"Maybe, maybe not," Jasmine said with a shrug as they started walking again. "But it _is_ her life, and you can't run it for her. At best, you can calmly point out how certain behaviors might look to others, but beyond that you'll have to stay back. You wouldn't like it if any of your older brothers tried to do the same thing to you, would you?"

"No, I guess not," Ron conceded. After a pause, he added glumly, "I didn't handle that too well, did I?"

"Ya _think?"_ Jasmine replied, and Ron winced at the sarcasm. A little more judiciously, she went on, "Right or wrong, only she can decide how fast is appropriate for her when it comes to her relationships. She's bound to make mistakes, but they're her mistakes to make, and you just have to let her."

Ron sighed. "When did you grow up and become all wise and responsible?"

"Who said I did?" Jasmine asked as she stuck out her tongue at him. He never noticed when she slipped out her wand, nor when she turned his hair into a green mohawk with a spell she'd learned from Remus.

In fact, Ron didn't notice the change for another hour, despite the muffled giggles from others in the common room, and when he finally did he promptly blamed the twins.

* * *

 **Monday, October 25, 1995, Morning.**

Neville sat alone in the common room, feeling both a bit proud and a bit nervous. Normally he accompanied Jasmine and Hermione to breakfast; more recently, Ginny had been joining the three of them. Now, however, he was thinking that if Ginny came down first, he'd simply walk with her. That sounded like something a boyfriend should do.

 _Boyfriend_ , he thought for the millionth time since the previous night. _I'm a boyfriend. That means... that means I've got a girlfriend!_ Every time he had that thought, it was as exciting as the first time. It was as if the mere word were able to conjure up Ginny Weasley herself, just before she leapt into his arms to kiss him.

The truth was, he hadn't even known that he was her boyfriend until she announced it to Ron the previous night. He had intended to ask her, but before he could get it all out she pulled him into an alcove and started snogging him. Not that he was going to complain, naturally, but it had thrown him off his plan. Then they were interrupted by Ron, wands were drawn, and Ginny made her announcement.

 _I guess that qualifies as a "yes," even if I hadn't quite gotten out my question_ , he concluded. Just then, Ginny came down the stairs, and Neville couldn't help but smile. She smiled back and sat down next to him. "Shall we go to breakfast?" he asked.

She gave him a curious look but finally said, "No, let's wait for the others. Thanks, though."

"For what?"

"For offering to go with just me," Ginny replied, leaning in to him. "It's sweet."

Neville's chest puffed out a little at hearing that.

* * *

 **Monday, October 25, 1995, Late Afternoon.**

It was a nervous Jasmine and Hermione who stayed behind once their Defense class was finished. "Fleur?" Jasmine started. "There's something we'd like to talk to you about. It's, uh, rather personal, but, ah, I'm not sure that there is anyone else we can talk to about this."

The two Gryffindor witches looked at each other for a moment, then turned back to their now-curious professor. "You probably know that we haven't finalized our bond yet," Jasmine continued, "but we were thinking about doing it when we got back from the Samhain ritual."

Fleur's eyebrows rose in surprise, and she said something in French that they didn't quite catch. "It is a big step, non?"

"Yeah, we covered that bit already," Jasmine said, sounding a little tired.

"Can you think of any reason why it would be a problem?" Hermione pressed on. "I know that Samhain isn't traditionally the sort of date for such things, but from what I've read it can be appropriate."

Fleur sighed and leaned back in her chair. "It is good zat you brought zis up with me, because I learned something ze other day that I've wanted to tell you, but I wasn't sure how. It may connect with your concerns."

She paused to organize her thoughts. "You remember how powerful Beltane was, oui?" When they nodded, she continued, "It was much more powerful zan anything anyone had ever heard of. No one can prove why it was, but ze best explanation anyone has come up with is zat ze goddesses descended and joined with you during ze ritual."

"You mean, they took us over?" Jasmine asked with a scowl. "Possessed us?"

"No, I don't think so," Hermione said before Fleur could answer. "I can remember everything I did, but if I had been possessed then I wouldn't be able to."

"Correct," Fleur said. "You were in control and zey would have... been along for ze ride, I guess, adding zeir power and essence to ze ritual, magnifying its effects beyond anything anyone could possibly imagine. Zey may have been able to encourage you to take certain acts, but zey would not have been able to force you."

"And what does this have to do with Samhain?" Hermione asked.

"It is part of why my mother suggested moving ze ritual to a new site," Fleur answered. "Since a ritual with your participation received such a strong blessing from ze goddesses and did so much good here, why not bring zose benefits to more places?"

"But there's no way to be sure that the same things will happen again," Hermione pointed out. "I mean, it's not like _we_ did anything special on Beltane. And the other rituals weren't nearly so powerful."

Fleur shrugged. "In truth, it does not matter. Even in earlier rituals zat weren't so powerful, zey were still more powerful zan normal, and your presence still seems to have brought benefits to ze surrounding area. If for some reason ze goddesses do not wish for ze same to happen elsewhere, zen zey will not join with you as zey did on Beltane. If ze worst zat happens is a repeat of Eostre or Midsummer's Eve, it will still be a great boon to any site where we hold ze ritual."

"What do you believe happened on Beltane?" Jasmine asked.

"Does it matter what I believe?"

"Of course it does," Jasmine insisted. "We respect your opinion."

Fleur sighed. "I really do not know. I understand ze reasons why some believe zat ze goddesses joined with you, but I find ze idea of zat happening hard to accept. Gabrielle didn't speak to me for two days when I told her zat — she is convinced zat ze goddesses joined with you and zat zey are providing zeir blessings for you to fulfill ze prophecy. She may be right, but I simply do not know."

"Does this mean we shouldn't finalize the bond on that night?" Hermione asked, sounding a bit disappointed.

"Not at all. First, you need to be aware of what might be going on before you participate. If ze possibility of being joined with a goddess and having her add her own power to yours bothers you, zen you should not go. However, if zat does not bother you, zen know zat one way or another, ze ritual will affect you, as it did on Beltane. Remember zat at ze very least, you will take in magic from all zose who participate, and zat magic will be in you when you finalize your bond. Ze same is true with ze goddesses, if you have joined with zem. And no, before you ask, I do not know what zat would mean. I don't zink anyone could know — I doubt it has ever happened before."

The three continued to talk about rituals, goddesses, and soul bonds until dinner was nearly over and the two Gryffindors had to run to get to the Great Hall in time to eat.

* * *

Later that night, after the girls had finished their mind magics practice, Jasmine took a deep breath and said, "OK, let's do it on the night of Samhain. What do we need to do to prepare?"

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. "I mean, we don't know what will happen."

"True, but we _do_ know what happened in the past. Was there _anything_ about Beltane that you regret?"

"You mean, aside from picking our way through dozens and dozens of writhing, naked veela?" Hermione asked with a smirk.

"Well, yeah, except for that."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "You're right, everything about Beltane was good. It was the best ritual, in fact."

"We went into Beltane having already chosen to do what we did," Jasmine pointed out, "and in doing it, both our bond and our relationship grew stronger. Maybe the things Fleur explained to us were irrelevant, in which case I don't think we need to worry about Samhain. Or maybe the things she explained actually made it all better than it would have been otherwise, in which case Samhain is a better choice than you originally realized."

Hermione grinned, then pulled out some parchment and explained her plan for when they returned to the castle after the ritual.

* * *

 **Friday, October 29, 1995, Late Night.**

Ward Master Bossplate watched silently as his team completed the ward stone configuration around the great stone circle. Muggles referred to the site as the "Merry Maidens," but goblins remembered its original name — not that they spoke it anymore, out of respect for the builders who had all long passed. The builders wouldn't have minded later generations using this site to honor magic in their own way, so long as they did so respectfully and sincerely, otherwise the goblins wouldn't have even considered helping on this project.

"The primary ward line is nearly complete," Warding Apprentice Stonesack reported. "All we have to do after that is the secondary line a hundred meters out to ensure that muggles keep their distance. With the amount of magic being carried by the ley line here, they should both be fully charged by tomorrow night."

"Good — we still have the second site to ward, and I want to get at least a little sleep tonight."

"The second site may take us a bit longer than this one," Stonesack pointed out.

"I know, I know. Placing wards around a graveyard in a mixed magical and muggle village is difficult, but it shouldn't take too long. I know a few tricks that I'll be teaching you."

"Are... are the rumors true?" Stonesack suddenly asked.

Bossplate eyed his apprentice critically. "You should know better than to listen to rumors."

"Yes, but these rumors..." The goblin looked around furtively, then continued in a low voice, "I heard that a priestess will be attending whatever is going to happen here. A priestess from the capital!"

Bossplate rolled his eyes. "Yes, I've heard that rumor. I even heard one that said that both the Queen and the High Priestess would be coming. And participating, too! I've told you before: rumors are garbage."

"I know, but _something_ important has to be going on. Why else would we be warding this place?"

"Our treaty with the wizarding government doesn't let us ward wizard-controlled sites without the Ministry's approval, nor any muggle sites at all," Bossplate said. "This site, however, is magical and has been for millennia. It just isn't claimed by the current wizarding government, so it's fair game. The graveyard is a bit dicier, but it is partially magical, and the Ministry doesn't claim any authority over it. As to why they need to be warded..." Bossplate shrugged. "I honestly don't know. You're right that something important has to be going on, but I'm not going to speculate or make up stories. Neither should you. Just because your brother Knobshaft is a senior account manager doesn't mean you can gossip like that."

One of the goblins waved a hand, signalling the completion of the primary ward line. "Get moving on the secondary line," Bossplate ordered his apprentice. "Focus on your work and not on rumors!" Stonesack rushed to help the others set up the secondary line while Bossplate violated his own rules and started wondering what was going to happen here that was so important that wards like these would be needed.

* * *

 **Saturday, October 30, 1995, Evening.**

Bellatrix Lestrange admired herself in the full-length mirror, turning this way and that as she ran her hands down along the rich, black fabric of her dress. A decade and a half in Azkaban (plus years of dark magic even before that) had taken their toll on her beauty, but she was still a good-looking witch and she knew it. The past two months in close proximity to her Lord had done wonders for her, bringing her back to nearly where she had been before entering the wizarding prison. Sure, Snape kept trying to take all the credit by claiming that his potions had been what was healing her, but _she_ knew the truth.

And now, she was fit enough to once again lead her Lord's servants in the quest to clean up the filth that surrounded them.

 _He freed me from the shackles of mediocrity_ , she thought. _He freed me from the walls that imprisoned me. He will free the entire wizarding world, too, rewarding those like me who are the most faithful while eliminating the filthy, wicked, muggle scum that envy us our righteous power. We are the Chosen Ones of Magic, blessed with power, grace, and nobility. Our power gives us the Right to cleanse the world of all those not blessed like us. Once our Lord has cleansed the world, we will have a paradise of pure magical humanity — witches and wizards who all enjoy the blessings of Magic and who are free to explore the full nature of magic under the guidance of our Lord!_

Bellatrix was interrupted from her reverie when someone behind her cleared his throat. "Are you ready yet?" She turned her head and looked with narrowed eyes on her brother-in-law, Rabastan. "You witches always take too long to get ready. It's a raid, not a freakin' fancy-dress ball!"

Bellatrix sniffed and turned away from him again. "That's no excuse to be so lax in your manners and behavior," she replied haughtily. "As the Chosen Ones of Magic, we have a duty and an obligation to set a higher standard. To demonstrate to those who are inferior why it is that we deserve power while they do not."

"Even though yer just gonna kill 'em?" Rabastan asked.

"Especially then," Bellatrix insisted. "What's the point of cleansing the filth from the streets if they die without ever knowing why it is they need to die? Any of them could die in an accident and thus still be removed, but where's the value in that? No, it is up to us to make sure they know that they are dying painfully and messily for a good reason: that it is the Will of Magic that the filth be removed in order to make room for their superiors."

She watched in the mirror as Rabastan shook his head. "That don't make sense. Kill 'em and move on, I say."

Bellatrix whirled around to face her brother-in-law. "And did it never occur to you that that's why _I_ am the Dark Lord's most faithful servant? Most trusted? Why the Dark Lord has always picked _me_ to lead His most important missions?"

Rabastan snorted. "Not tonight, yer not. We're just getting rid of the family of a muggleborn witch, maybe burn down a few muggle houses fer good measure, too."

Bellatrix raised her head and looked at Rabastan imperiously. "It may not seem important to you, but it must be important to our Lord, otherwise He'd never order it. Do not presume to know the Dark Lord's will or plans. If nothing else, it may be a test — a test of our skills and resolve. And that would be another reason to do this right!" She stalked past her brother-in-law, no longer interested in debating with him.

She had a raid to lead. She had filth to cleanse. It felt good to get back to the action again, and she was determined to demonstrate that her faith and commitment had never wavered.


	24. Waking the Witch

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Harry Potter and Future's Past" by DriftWood1965. Harry and Hermione discover their true feelings for one another, and Miranda, the Goddess of Love, offers to send them back in time so they can do things right. Not complete and updates are slow. H/Hr.

* * *

 **Chapter 24 - Waking the Witch**

 **Sunday, October 31, 1995, 5:00 PM.**

Jasmine, Hermione, Fleur, Gabrielle, and Minerva all dropped into a dark alley in Godric's Hollow, with Jasmine tumbling to the ground as usual. "At least I didn't twist or break my ankle this time," she muttered as Hermione and Gabrielle helped her to her feet. With Minerva leading, the five witches silently made their way through the village to the ancient cemetery.

Here and there they could see children dressed in colorful costumes, but they avoided the better-traveled streets as they hurried along. The sun had already set, but they still had enough light to see by, and they wanted to complete their task before it got too dark.

Jasmine shuddered without knowing why when they reached the kissing gate outside the cemetery. "Zat was ze wards," Fleur told them. "We will have complete privacy for ze ritual, and tomorrow ze wards will be taken down."

Once inside, they moved more slowly as Jasmine and Hermione looked at all the familiar names as they passed by row after row of tombstones. Abbot. Parkes. Dumbledore.

Finally they arrived at their destination. Everyone waited patiently as Jasmine looked down at the single stone that marked the final resting place of both her parents — people she didn't even remember. Jasmine let go of Hermione's hand and took a hesitant step forward, then knelt gently in front of the stone. She reached out and slowly traced the lines of her parents' names, then read the inscription along the bottom. "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death," she whispered.

She frowned as she looked back at the others. "Isn't that what Death Eaters believe?"

"No, lass," Minerva assured her. "For Death Eaters, the idea of defeating death means avoiding it. Denying it. For your parents, though, it meant accepting the inevitability of death, but not despairing because they believed that they, or at least some part of them, would continue on. They believed that death isn't truly the end and thus wasn't an enemy to be feared."

Jasmine looked back at the gravestone, unsure of what to think about that. The idea that death wasn't the end might have been comforting, and given the existence of ghosts might even have been true; but the fact remained that they weren't there anymore. _They left me. They left me alone. Alone with the Dursleys, who victimized me for more than a decade. Alone with Dumbledore, who hasn't tried to take care of me. What good is continuing on when you leave an innocent, helpless toddler alone... without support. Without..._

Jasmine had never truly cried over the loss of her parents. Whenever the Dursleys had thrown her status as an orphan at her, she'd known that she couldn't show any sort of emotional response, lest they use that against her. She had learned to hold it in and had been doing that ever since. She'd kept her feelings bottled up so tightly that even she didn't know how much it hurt.

Now, though, she broke down and cried over the graves of her parents. The raw, open wound of what she'd lost was finally exposed, and her deep, racking sobs echoed across the graveyard as her shoulders heaved and her eyes burned. She cried over her lost childhood. She cried over her fears that she wouldn't be able to live up to her parents' expectations. She cried over her inability to control her own life due to being the target of two prophecies, a manipulative old man, and a psychopathic maniac. Most of all, though, she cried because she finally could. She had never been able to fully let out any of the pain that life had inflicted on her, and once she started, she couldn't stop.

Jasmine had no idea how long she knelt there, sobbing, but eventually she felt a pair of arms encircle her from behind as she heard Hermione say, "It's OK, Jas. You're not alone — not anymore. You'll always have me by your side."

Gradually the sobbing slowed and then finally stopped. Jasmine wiped her face with her sleeve and managed to stand again with help from Hermione, who pulled out a wand to clean her girlfriend's face.

Fleur stopped her with a hand on her arm. "No, no magic," she said. "It might interfere with ze ritual." Hermione nodded and returned her wand to its holster.

Once Jasmine had collected herself, the five witches dropped their heavy winter cloaks, revealing that they were all wearing thin black shifts. Jasmine shivered when the cold October air hit her — they couldn't even apply warming charms to themselves or their clothing. They removed shoes, wands, and everything else but the shifts before gathering in a semi-circle around the grave.

"You remember what you need to do?" Fleur asked. When Jasmine nodded silently, Fleur raised her hands and in a slightly shaky voice began to lead the group in a ritual to honor Jasmine's parents. This was her first time leading a magical ritual, and she wanted to get it right.

"The summer light has died. The autumn wind blows cold. The darkness of winter approaches," Fleur recited. "It is the night of Samhain, the night when the veil between our world and the next is thinnest. The night when we honor those who have already passed on and ask them to bless those who remain behind."

She nodded to Jasmine, whose voice as she began to speak was even more tremulous than Fleur's. "Tonight I honor my ancestors. Tonight I honor the spirits of my mo-mother and my father, taken far too young from us. Tonight I honor the lives of those who gave me life, because while they are no longer with me, they are not t-truly gone so long as I persevere."

As Jasmine finished, Fleur pulled out from a special bag a board, knife, and small loaf of dark rye bread. She held the board while the younger witch cut the bread and placed one half to either side of the gravestone. Fleur then helped her pour out two small cups of fermented apple cider, which she placed beside the bread. Finally, Fleur gave her two candles which she set, unlit, by the food.

Unnoticed by the witches gathered around the Potter grave, a swirling mist had begun to fill the old cemetery, cutting off their ability to see either the road they had come from or the nearby church.

After Jasmine had completed her part, everyone joined hands as she spoke again: "Spirit of my mother. Spirit of my father. I call upon you to join me on this night. I ask you to watch over me, to protect and guide me, to help me fulfill my destiny so that I can continue the cycle with a new generation."

As the mist thickened, passersby started crossing the street to stay as far as possible from the spooky old graveyard. Families who lived on the street would wonder the next day why so few children had stopped by.

"Mother and Father," Jasmine continued, "your blood courses through me and gives me life. Your spirits inspire me and give me hope. Your memories comfort me and give me shelter. I will always remember you, and so long as I endure, you will not be truly gone. I promise that you will always live on, in my heart and in those who follow after me."

A strong wind rushed in, though it didn't move the mist at all. Then, as the wind fell off, the wicks of the two candles burst into flame, casting flickering shadows all around them. Four of the witches were more than a little surprised, but Jasmine barely paid attention — she was too emotionally drained to focus on events around her.

Once everyone was dressed again, they started to head back through the now-dissipating mist to the kissing gate, but after a few meters Jasmine stopped and turned around. "Thanks, Mum and Dad," she whispered thickly. "Thanks for everything. I love you." Then she quickly spun and rejoined the others.

Behind her, the wind kicked up again as motes of pulsating energy swirled around the graveyard.

* * *

Dolores Umbridge stalked through the corridors of Hogwarts, looking everywhere for her prey: Jasmine Potter and Hermione Granger, the banes of her existence and existential threats to the Ministry of Magic. The two witches had been missing all day and hadn't even shown up for dinner. In fact, she hadn't been able to find them since breakfast that morning.

 _They're up to no good — they have to be_ , she concluded. _Otherwise, they'd be in the library or their common room studying. No, they're doing something that endangers the Ministry, and I'll find out what it is. I'll have them expelled and their wands snapped before lunch tomorrow!_

* * *

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black each knocked back yet another shot of firewhiskey in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. They'd lost count of how many they'd had so far, and frankly, neither cared. Remus had been surprised when Sirius expressed an interest in getting drunk that night, given how long he'd managed to go without alcohol of any sort. But he supposed that if anyone had a right to get drunk on such a night, it was the two of them.

Aside from all the obvious reasons to join Sirius, Remus had a selfish motive: he hoped it would cause his friend to become a bit less guarded. There were questions he wanted to ask but yet managed because Sirius had been acting increasingly reserved, secretive, and uncommunicative. The old Sirius was still there, he could tell; but he'd been changing — in some ways for the better, but in other ways, not so much.

As the night wore on and they consumed ever more firewhiskey, Remus decided it was as good a time as any to raise some delicate questions. "Say, Padfoot," he said, trying to seem casual, "have you noticed how close Jasmine and Hermione are?"

"Hm?" Sirius responded.

"Jasmine and Hermione."

"Oh, yeah," Sirius said, slurring his words. "They're pretty close. Have ya noticed?"

"Yes, I think I have," Remus replied, trying to hide a smile. "They were pretty close in third year when I taught them, but they seem even closer now."

"As close as me 'n James," Sirius said, not entirely paying attention. "Every time I see the two of 'em together, I think about how much they remind me of me 'n James."

Remus was unfortunate enough to have been taking a drink at that moment and promptly spit most of it back out.

"Jasmine may be more like Lily than James," Sirius continued, not noticing his friend's distress, "but when it comes to her friendship with Hermione, she and James are indis... indis... you can't tell 'em apart. I can see 'em traveling the same path that I knew me 'n James were already on."

"Sweet Merlin, I hope not," Remus whispered under his breath, still coughing as he tried to clean the table up.

"Wha' was that?"

"Nothing, nothing," Remus answered. "I'm just... uh, how close _were_ you and James, anyway?"

"Closer 'n brothers," Sirius said. "Well, closer 'n I was to _my_ brother. As close as close can be, we were."

"Did... did Lily know?"

Sirius frowned. "Well, sure. James never hid anything from 'er. Not that he'd have been able to if he tried. And she was involved... in most of what me 'n James did, at least after those two got together."

"Did?" Remus half whispered.

"Yeah," Sirius said. "Y'know, pranks, watching Quidditch, that sorta thing. You were around for almost all of it — don'tcha remember?"

"Oh, right," Remus replied, feeling relieved. "So nothing, uh, more. Nothing beyond that?"

"Like what?" Sirius asked, looking confused.

"Nothing," Remus replied hastily. "Forget I said anything."

Sirius grunted and finished his drink.

"But it seems you like Hermione?" Remus asked, trying to change the subject back and hoping that with enough firewhiskey, he'd forget the images that had just been coursing through his head. "You approve of her?"

"Of course. I can't think of a better friend for her. I only hope Jasmine can find a wizard who's as good."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Remus muttered under his breath.

"Huh?"

"Never mind, Padfoot," Remus said as he poured another round. "Have some more of this and forget I said anything."

* * *

"Professor?"

Flitwick looked up and saw that Ravenclaw's ghost, the Grey Lady, had drifted through his office door. "Yes, my dear?" he asked. "Is it time?"

She nodded. "I'm afraid so. She's getting more and more upset."

"Very well," Flitwick said with a sigh as he closed his book and started for the door. "I'll go distract her while you start alerting the others." The ghost nodded and drifted out as Flitwick exited his office. "I'm really not getting paid enough for this," he muttered.

* * *

 **Sunday, October 31, 1995, 5:30 PM.**

The portkey deposited the five witches outside the Merry Maidens stone circle, where everyone else was already waiting for them. Despite the fast-diminishing light, they recognized the other Hogwarts witches as well as numerous veela who had participated in earlier rituals, including Apolline, Adrienne, Phoebe, and Areto.

All of that was expected; what wasn't expected was the presence of a group of heavily armed and dangerous-looking goblins, all surrounding a single figure completely hidden under a black cloak. One scarred goblin with an eyepatch and two escorts approached the newly arrived witches. He looked them over and then turned to two in particular.

"Jasmine Potter and Hermione Granger?" he asked. "My name is Sharpaxe. I'm in charge of the goblin contingent here this evening. We have a number of guards out around the ward boundaries to watch for trouble, though I don't expect there to be any problems."

"What do the muggles think is going on?" Hermione asked. "If I'm not mistaken, they often gather around sites like this on important dates like Samhain."

"I believe that a story about a leak in a gas line was released to the muggles," he answered.

"A gas leak?" Hermione asked, confusion clear on her face. "But... but there wouldn't be any gas lines under here. Or anywhere near here."

Sharpaxe shrugged. "Maybe not, but that doesn't seem to have stopped them from believing it."

Hermione sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Usually I think muggles have magicals beat when it comes to basic common sense, but then they go and do something like that..."

Sharpaxe grinned, but before he could say anything, Jasmine gestured at the cloaked figure still surrounded by guards and asked, "Who is that?"

The goblin's grin quickly disappeared. "That is a representative from the goblin leadership. Their identity is to remain a secret. In fact, you must not tell anyone that such a goblin was ever in your country. They will not be interfering, just observing. The goblin leadership is interested in exactly what it is that we're helping to protect here."

"Zat is quite understandable," Fleur said as she stepped forward. "We welcome your and zeir presence, and we hope zat zis evening's celebration will be enlightening." Sharpaxe responded with a quick bow of his head and returned to his group. "Come," Fleur said to the others, "It is getting late, and ze others are waiting."

* * *

"Chief Inquisitor Umbridge?"

"Yes?" Umbridge asked testily as she turned around, annoyed at being distracted from her mission to find Potter and Granger. At first she didn't see anyone, but finally she looked down and realized that it was Professor Flitwick who had come up behind her. She loathed the vile little half-breed, but couldn't deny that she got a visceral thrill out of being around someone who was actually shorter than her.

"I was wondering if we could discuss some of the standards which the Ministry is planning to impose on Hogwarts," Flitwick said. "I have some suggestions that I think would go a long way towards not only improving education, but also bringing the Ministry and Hogwarts into closer alignment."

"I... I don't have time," Umbridge protested, starting to walk away. "I'm busy with another project right now."

"Oh, well, I don't mind walking with you," he replied cheerfully. "I tend to think better while I'm walking anyway."

"Really, it's not necessary—"

"It's not a problem at all. Besides, I have nothing else to do for the next few hours. Now, according to the Ministry Educational Act of 1755, we professors here are required to..."

* * *

 **Sunday, October 31, 1995, 6:00 PM.**

After shedding shoes, outer cloaks, and wands, the five witches entered the stone circle and took their places around the central bonfire while the group of goblins remained right outside the entrance. Inside the circle and off to the side was an altar with three candles and two statues. Fleur had earlier explained that instead of the usual two goddesses, the Samhain ritual would honor two aspects of the same goddess: Hekate Phosphoros and Hekate Soteira.

Once everyone was in place, Apolline stood in front of the altar and spoke: "The night of Samhain has arrived. Tonight is a night of remembrance and transition, a time to honor the past while preparing for the future. The harvest is over. Our fields lay bare. Day has transitioned into night. Summer is sliding into winter. Death lurks out in the shadows, just beyond the light of our fire. As the sun dims and the nights grow long, death moves and announces its presence."

Apolline turned, facing all of the assembled witches one by one. Raising her hands above her head, she said, "But we are not afraid. Here, where ancient power courses beneath our feet, we are not afraid, because we accept that death is a part of life and that to fear death is to fear life itself." A thick mist swept in and began swirling outside the stone circle, while the two smaller candles on either side of the altar burst into light.

The witches inside the circle didn't pay any attention to the mist, but Sharpaxe did because he immediately recognized that it cut him off from the guards around the outer edges of the wards. He started giving orders to a runner to go and check on the guards when Lufestre placed a hand on his shoulder. "There's no need," she said. "We are safe."

The War Chief shot her a skeptical look. "How can you be so sure? That mist isn't natural, and it's cutting us off from the rest of our force. I didn't prepare a defensible position here because I was assured that we would not be in danger."

The cloaked Lufestre shook her head. "I can't explain how I know, but I promise you that we are all safe. I _feel_ it." Sharpaxe wasn't happy with that response, but he nodded and turned back to watch the ritual. He made a point of keeping a hand on his weapon, however, and his guards followed his example.

"Samhain is a time to remember and honor our ancestors," Apolline was saying. "We have all lost loved ones, but tonight is when we are most able to reach out and touch them again. Everyone should come up to the altar, take a white candle, and light it from either the left or right candle of Hekate. When you do so, ask that she bless us all by using you as her vessel to either light our way or defend our homes. And as you return to your place around the circle, meditate on the people closest to you who have passed through the veil."

One by one, each of the witches did as Apolline asked. Some, like Daphne, didn't allow any emotion to show on their faces at all. Others, like Susan, openly wept. Soon they were all back in their original positions, each holding a lit candle in front of them.

"We call to you, Hekate, guardian of the gate between the living and the dead, keeper of the path between this world and the underworld," Apolline intoned. "We ask that you watch over the spirits of our loved ones who have passed through the veil and guide us when it is our time to join them." The central candle on the altar suddenly burst into flame as motes of magical energy swirled within the circle; outside the stone ring, the surrounding mist thickened as it revolved around them.

Sharpaxe scowled and made a few quick hand motions, causing the goblins to move into a tighter formation around the High Priestess. So far the mist hadn't affected them, but he and his people were between the edge of the mist and the edge of the circle, making him feel trapped. It wasn't a situation he was comfortable with.

Apolline turned back to the assembled witches and raised her hands once more. The other veela followed suit, so the Hogwarts witches imitated them. "We call upon Hekate Phosphoros, Bringer of Light and Patron of Witches, to light our path for as long as we walk on this side of the Veil. Hekate's light shines forever in the dark places, separating truth from lies, revealing secrets and knowledge, giving hope to those who seek to fulfill their destinies. Just as her light showed Demeter the truth, just as her light showed Demeter the way forward, may she reveal to us the truth and the way."

The black candle on the left, next to the statue of Hekate Phosphoros, began burning blue, and the mist circled faster.

As the other witches responded, "Hekate Phosphoros, fill us with your light and guide us on our path," the ground around their feet began to glow. Pulses of energy began flowing from them towards the central bonfire, causing it to rise higher. Meanwhile, blue motes of energy began swirling around Hermione's feet, and the white flame on her candle slowly shifted to blue.

"We call upon Hekate Soteira, Savior of Witches, to defend those who uphold the old ways and protect all who call her Mother. She binds our wounds and prepares us for the trials we must face. Just as she led Persephone up from the underworld, she will lead us up out of the cold darkness and back into her light. But when danger threatens, she becomes Hekate Perseis, the Destroyer, bringing fire and ruin to all those who attack her children. Hekate shows no mercy to the aggressors, but her compassion for the innocent is boundless."

The black candle on the right, next to the statue of Hekate Soteira, began burning green, and the mist surrounding the stone circle revolved faster as the deep roaring of the wind grew in volume.

The other witches, many of whom were swaying due to the drain on them, responded, "Hekate Soteira, save us, your children, from the cold and the dark." The pulses of magical energy flowing from the witches into the central fire grew in size and speed while the fire itself reached ever higher into the sky. At the same time, green motes of energy began swirling around Jasmine's feet, and the white flame of her candle slowly shifted to green.

Outside the stone circle, Sharpaxe was at a loss for what to do. At the speed the mist seemed to be moving, not to mention the roaring that was reaching deafening levels, there should have been a wind strong enough to knock them all over — but they didn't feel even the slightest breeze. On top of that... _something_ was happening inside the circle, but he didn't understand what. And what he didn't understand, he had to treat as a threat.

Something drew Sharpaxe's gaze upward just then, and what he saw almost drove him to his knees in a combination of fear and awe. Where there had previously been swirling mist, they now stood at the base of a massive vortex that stretched so far into the night sky that there was no way to tell where it ended. In the center, piercing the vortex like a fiery sword, was a column of flame from the bonfire, reaching into the heavens and beyond.

"High Priestess," he croaked out, "do you see...?"

"I see it," Lufestre shouted back, "but I'm not sure I believe it."

"We call upon you, Hekate, Bringer of Light, Savior of Witches, Dark Mother! Guide us through the cycles of life, protect us from those who wish us harm, and bestow upon us the power which is yours!"

As soon as Apolline cried the last words, the column of flame that stretched up out of the bonfire collapsed down into the center and exploded outward in a maelstrom of energy. First it hit the witches, all of whom fell to the ground with the force of the blast. Next it hit the mist, and the two merged before spiraling outward across the plains and hills of Cornwall, then throughout Devon, not dissipating until it entered Somerset and Dorset.

The goblins standing between the stone circle and the wall of the vortex of mist were, much to their shock, almost entirely unaffected. They had braced themselves as soon as they saw the flames collapse down into the bonfire, but whereas the witches had been knocked over by the force of the exploding wave of energy, the goblins only felt a gentle breeze pass over them.

* * *

"I remember you," Myrtle said with narrowed eyes. "You were always mean to me. Well, everyone is mean to me, but you were meaner than most!"

Dolores Umbridge tried to stand a bit straighter, despite knowing that she could never look intimidating when she didn't even reach five feet tall in heels. "It serves you right, you know, disturbing that wedding. You were lucky that the Ministry only confined you to Hogwarts last time. If you keep this up, we'll have you exorcised completely!"

"No!" Myrtle cried before she shot into her stall and dove into the toilet with a loud splash.

Umbridge nodded as if she'd completed an important job, then headed for the door. _Why that ghost told me two Gryffindor girls came in here, I'll never know. There must be something wrong with the castle's ghosts . Maybe I can blame it on Dumbledore?_

When she pushed on the door, however, it wouldn't open. She pulled out her wand and cast _Alohomora_ on it, but nothing happened. Outside, she heard the distinctive voice of Peeves cackling. "You open this door right now!" she screamed. "Do you hear me?"

"Well," came an annoying, nasally voice from behind her. "I guess we're stuck in here together now."

"Peeves!"

* * *

 **Sunday, October 31, 1995, 7:00 PM.**

Jasmine felt hands helping her into a sitting position, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Gabrielle gazing back in wonder at her. "Hekate Soteira," the younger witch whispered in French, "save us from the cold and the dark."

Jasmine shook her head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs, then grabbed Gabrielle's arm to help steady herself as she stood. To her side, Fleur was helping Hermione in the same way — and Hermione's eyes were glowing blue. "Jasmine," she said, "your eyes! They're—"

"Yeah, yours too," Jasmine said. "Do you feel, I dunno..."

"Yeah," Hermione answered, "I think I know what you mean." She looked down at her hands and started rubbing her fingers together. "It's like there's something there, a tingle or an echo, just beyond what I can see or hear or something."

Jasmine nodded. "Whatever it is, it's big. Massive, even. But all I can hear are whispers... if hearing is the right word. I can't quite tell."

"I zink maybe we should not delay returning to ze castle," Fleur announced. Looking at Minerva, she went on, "I will take a portkey with zese three, if you can accompany ze others?" The older witch, who was still moving a bit unsteadily, nodded in agreement and began to gather together her students, all of whom were looking at Jasmine and Hermione with undisguised curiosity.

As Fleur, Gabrielle, Jasmine, and Hermione left the circle, they received respectful nods from all of the goblins, including the mysterious, black-cloaked figure. Once they had gathered up everything they'd brought with them, Fleur activated the portkey, which dropped them outside of Hogsmeade. Heading quickly for Honeydukes, they snuck down into the basement, where they used the hidden passage to get back into Hogwarts.

Fleur and Gabrielle escorted the other two to the Room of Requirement in order to help them avoid others — there would be too many questions if anyone saw their glowing eyes — then made their own way to Fleur's private quarters.

* * *

"Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore looked down to find Hogwarts' head elf standing next to his desk, frowning deeply as his large, yellow eyes darted all over. "What is it Pappy? Is something wrong?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Pappy answered, pulling and twisting his towel. "You remembers that we not be finding the source of dark magic? And that I be wanting to have elves always be watching for it?"

Dumbledore looked intently at the elf, his eyes alight with anticipation. "Yes, Pappy, I remember. Did they find something?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Pappy answered. "A little bit ago there be dark magic in the Come and Go Room. Elves be watching and be finding! But we not like to be touching. It be very dark magic." Pappy snapped his fingers and a box appeared on his desk. Dumbledore could immediately sense the darkness that surrounded it, and Fawkes started squawking over in the corner.

"Thank you, Pappy," Dumbledore said. "I must confess that I thought something like this might happen tonight. I'm sorry I didn't warn you. Please pass along my thanks to the other elves involved as well. You should all take some time this evening to rest a bit. After what you must have gone through to find and move this, you all deserve it."

"Thank you, Headmaster," the elf said before disappearing.

Dumbledore stared at the box and considered his best course of action. Before he could get far, however, the gargoyle alerted him to another visitor, and in a few seconds, Dolores Umbridge burst through his door. "Headmaster Dumbledore!" she screeched. "What kind of school are you running here?"

Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Why don't you tell me what's troubling you?"

* * *

 **Sunday, October 31, 1995, 7:30 PM.**

The Room of Requirement was all set up for what Jasmine liked to call "an appropriate arrangement of body parts." Hermione liked to give Jasmine a whack on the shoulder whenever she used that phrase, which was probably why Jasmine kept doing it.

Despite Hermione having had a firm idea in her mind of what she wanted when she paced the necessary three times, the room wasn't quite what she had expected. There was a large bed in the center and the accompanying bathroom she'd asked for. What she hadn't envisioned was a room that looked like it was in the middle of an ancient Greek temple, constructed from white marble and complete with columns. Nor had she envisioned the massive statues in each of the four corners of the room — statues of a goddess with three faces and three bodies, each body holding a torch plus either a key, a dagger, or a serpent.

"You've got a weird imagination," Jasmine commented dryly.

"This isn't all me," Hermione protested. "I wanted a comfortable room that would be appropriate for what we intend to do. Not..." she waved her hands around at the marble and decorations, "...all of this... whatever it is!"

"Well... does it matter?"

"I guess not. I just wish I understood how this room worked."

They had only gotten a few steps into the room when two translucent figures shimmered into existence before them. The girls were annoyed at first, thinking that a couple of Hogwarts ghosts had intruded, but Jasmine suddenly gasped and moved forward another step. "Mum? Dad?" she asked.

"Yes, honey, it's us," Lily Potter answered. Jasmine stumbled forward and reached out for them, but her hands passed right through.

"You're... you're ghosts?" Jasmine asked, sounding both hopeful and disappointed as she dropped to her knees. "Are you at Hogwarts now?"

"Not really, no," Lily answered. "We're spirits, not ghosts that are bound to an earthly location. The ritual you performed in Godric's Hollow called us from the other side, and the amount of magic you put into that call was enough to actually bring us across. But even so, it won't last for long."

"Besides," James added with a grin, "I suspect you had other plans for tonight." Lily elbowed him in the side as Jasmine blushed furiously. She quickly stood up and reached behind her.

"This is my, uh, my..." Finally finding Hermione's hand, she yanked her girlfriend forward to stand alongside her. "This is my Hermione."

Hermione squeaked out a hello, suddenly feeling sympathetic to what Jasmine had gone through back in June when she met Hermione's parents.

"Yes, we recognize her," James said. "Your soulmate, Hermione Granger. It's a real pleasure to finally meet you."

"You... you know about us?" Jasmine asked, more than a little fearful.

"Of course," James answered. "The afterlife is frightfully boring. Watching the living is the only sort of entertainment we have."

"Watch?" Jasmine squawked. "You... you've been watching us?"

Lily elbowed James again. "Not everything!" she insisted. "We have a bit more decency than that. Well, most of us do, at any rate." She glared at her husband, who had the good sense to look contrite. "We have tried to keep an eye on you during your life. I'm so, so sorry about Petunia and her family — I can assure you that they will not like what happens to them once they pass over. Neither will Dumbledore, though he is trying harder."

"We have been pleased with _you_ , Miss... Hermione," James corrected himself. "Jasmine's life will never be an easy one, but it's gotten far, far better because of your presence. I don't think she could possibly have found a better friend or partner anywhere."

"So... you don't mind?" Jasmine asked. "I mean, you're OK with the fact that I... you know, prefer other witches?"

James sighed. "I'll admit that there was a time when we might not have handled it so well, but on the other side of the Veil, you get a much different perspective on things. One of the first things you learn is that real love is unbounded — it is not constrained by time or space, nor by physical form or any other earthly consideration. It was love which enabled your magic to call us here tonight, and we would never love you any less simply because of whom you love yourself."

"Thanks, Dad," Jasmine whispered, swallowing hard. "That... that means a lot to me."

"I do want grandbabies, though," Lily said firmly, causing Jasmine and Hermione to gasp. "I know it's possible for two witches, and since there are indeed two of you, I should be able to get twice as many. Lots and lots of grandbabies." Both witches blushed scarlet from head to toe. "And you know we're watching, so you can't use me being dead as an excuse for not getting busy."

"Muuum!" Jasmine exclaimed, more embarrassed than she'd ever felt in her _life_.

"Now, now, Lily," James said. "There's lots of time for that. They're still young. They need to... you know, practice first."

"Daaad!" Jasmine reconsidered and decided that **now** she was more embarrassed than she'd ever felt in her life.

"We're also happy that you've discovered the old ways, and on your own, too," James said, ignoring his daughter's complaint. "The Potters have long practiced them, though of course always secretly."

"I was quite surprised when I first learned about them," Lily added. "I have to admit that participating in rituals always made me feel much closer to magic. I'll always remember our last one, an Autumnal Equinox celebration. It was over a month before... well, before that night. It was actually the first time we brought you, since you were a year old, so in a sense that was your first ritual — not that you did anything, of course."

"Are there others like you?" Jasmine asked. "I mean, other families still doing it?"

"Of course," James answered. "I can't tell you who they are, though — it wouldn't be right. But if things go well, I'm sure you'll meet them eventually." Just as he finished saying that, both James and Lily started to fade.

Jasmine quickly reached out to them. "No!"

"Our time is up, honey," Lily said. "Remember that we love you and that we're very, very proud of you."

"We're proud of both of you," James added. "And we completely approve."

In the space of a few heartbeats, both figures had vanished. Jasmine and Hermione collapsed against each other, both feeling emotionally drained from the experience.

"I can't believe it," Jasmine half whispered. "I can't believe my parents were here. I actually got to talk to them."

Hermione smiled. "I can't believe your father used what little time he had to tease us! At least I know where you get it, now."

"Bit of a mood killer, though," Jasmine said with a sigh. "But I guess it could have been worse." When Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow, Jasmine continued, "They could have popped in after. Or, you know, _during_."

Hermione shuddered at the thought, then pulled Jasmine into an embrace. "Dance with me," she said as she started to sway gently.

"But there's no music," Jasmine objected.

"Yes, there is. You just have to listen more closely."

They started to sway together — awkwardly at first as Jasmine mentally shifted gears, but soon they found themselves gliding across the marble floor to an ethereal music that emanated from their souls. Gazing into Hermione's still-glowing eyes, Jasmine could see the depth of her love and desire, the same love and desire she herself felt, and she knew that nothing would ever be the same after that night. The shy, lonely girls who had arrived at Hogwarts a little over four years previously were gone. Love, magic, and conflict had transformed them into powerful, confident witches who knew what they wanted — and who knew that they had found what they had always needed.

When their dancing finally brought them to the bed, Hermione pulled Jasmine into a long, deep kiss. As hands moved and clothing fell away, the torches held by each of the four statues lit up, bathing the room in dancing shadows and lights.

Their bodies moved together in a slow, deliberate rhythm as they savored every moment and sensation. A gentle stroke of the finger. A tender caress of the lips. An animated flick of the tongue. Each new movement built slowly on the other, layering new and unexpected melodies together while igniting their nerves and magic until both were vibrating in anticipation and pleasure.

Their duet started with touches, but gradually all five senses were added to the mix. With each new sensation, the two witches felt springs coiling tighter and tighter somewhere deep in their abdomens. The tempo increased as they moved and intertwined, steadily building and becoming more energetic. They witnessed the glowing lights of their souls, no longer pale but now bright and brilliant. Blue and green reached out and blended into a single, luminous white as the two witches touched, tasted, and breathed in one another.

And the flames on the torches burned ever brighter.

Harmony was nurtured by each, ensuring that the other's passion was growing as hot and bright as her own. When one felt herself drawing ahead, she eased back and redoubled her focus on her partner. Back and forth they moved, rising and falling and rising again, a constant and joyful rhythm that kept taking them higher and faster.

Soon the flames on the torches burned hot enough to cause the marble walls to crack while the eyes on each of the statues' three faces glowed with barely restrained power.

After an endless time of constantly building pressure and tension, with each witch urging the other on, Hermione felt as though she were balancing on the edge of a precipice, every nerve screaming out for release. No longer able to continue, but not willing to jump without her partner, she cried out, "Stop holding back! Let go!"

The castle itself trembled as the two witches pulled each other forward to a shuddering crescendo as wave after wave of fire and lightning coursed through their bodies. In a single moment, they felt like they were falling and falling until they suddenly shattered into a million brilliant pieces; in the next moment, those pieces started drawing themselves into two wholes again — but mixed together now as pieces of each blended in seamlessly with the other.

For once, even Hermione was at a loss for words as her brain shut down from the complete overload of physical, emotional, and magical sensations and pleasure.

Jasmine was already in an exhausted sleep, black ichor oozing from her now-healing scar.

* * *

In the headmaster's office, Dumbledore was reaching the end of his patience with Umbridge. For nearly half an hour she had been complaining about Jasmine Potter and Hermione Granger (both of whom she had apparently been looking for for hours), about the castle's ghosts, about annoying professors, and finally back to Miss Potter and Miss Granger again.

He had tried to be patient. He had tried to be tolerant. He had surreptitiously checked his monitoring devices and made sure that Jasmine Potter was indeed in the castle. He had tried to give hints that he had other things to do. In the final analysis, though, Dolores Umbridge was an infuriating woman whom no one could possibly tolerate in anything more than tiny doses. Even the portraits — those that hadn't left in frustration — were falling asleep rather than listen to her. He was about to summarily throw her out when the box on his desk started vibrating.

"What is that, Headmaster?" Umbridge asked suspiciously.

Dumbledore frowned, not having expected anything like this. He'd assumed that if the object inside was what he thought it was, then it would follow the previously established pattern: release a burst of dark magic, then go dormant for a time. Unless...

"Oh, it's nothing important," he said, trying to sound casual. "A magical artifact that I had brought in for study. If you would excuse me..."

Then the castle shook as a muffled scream came out of the box.

"I think there's something more going on here," Umbridge insisted. Before he could stop her, she rose from her seat, stepped around to the side of his desk, and ripped the lid off of the box. Inside was a gleaming diadem that pulsated with unstable power and screamed as if it were being tortured.

"What... what is that thing?" Umbridge demanded. Fawkes started screeching as the castle seemed to shudder, and Dumbledore didn't hesitate to act. With his wand he vanished the windows, and with the other hand he grabbed the diadem — he dared not use direct magic on it, lest that cause it to explode sooner. Instantly his mind was flooded with a desire to put it on, to keep it safe, but he refused to listen and never noticed it burning his hand. Instead he hurled it out of his window as hard as he could, then turned around and grabbed Umbridge in a bear hug, putting himself between her and the window while casting a silent shield at his back.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're—"

The explosion occurred a few meters outside Dumbledore's office and it deafened both of the human occupants. The magical and sonic shockwave from the blast shredded Dumbledore's robe as well as much of what was on his shelves. The destruction was so great that he would never notice that all of the delicate devices which he had tied to Jasmine Potter's blood also exploded independently right after the diadem did, peppering Umbridge's back with dozens of wounds as bits of magic-infused shrapnel were embedded deep under her skin.

Most of the portraits were damaged, too. Those former headmasters who hadn't fled to alternate frames were cowering in the corners, desperate to know what had happened but terrified that it might happen again.

Dumbledore and Umbridge both collapsed onto the office floor, stunned by the incredible explosion. Fawkes, who had been protected by a wall, flashed out of the office to fetch Madam Pomfrey.

* * *

In Little Hangleton, the quiet night was rocked by an explosion in a forgotten, dilapidated shack as an old ring screamed and tore itself apart. An even older stone was launched by the explosion high into the atmosphere and landed far, far away. When nearby residents finally reached the shack, they found it completely burned down with barely any trace left that it had ever existed.

In a manor in Wiltshire, an unnaturally large snake writhed and screamed next to its unconscious master. It twisted on itself with so much force that its spine broke in several places, leaving the snake unconscious and barely alive. The only Death Eater brave enough to enter the throne room to investigate the screaming immediately sent word to Severus Snape at Hogwarts.

* * *

 **Sunday, October 31, 1995, Night.**

When Jasmine finally woke up, she was naked, sore, sticky, and feeling better than she ever had before. Those good feelings only improved when she felt an equally naked and sticky Hermione wrapped around her. Jasmine shifted herself, hoping to find a slightly more comfortable position, but in the process she woke Hermione, who yawned, stretched, and finally turned to look into her eyes.

"Hey, you," Hermione said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, sore... absolutely fantastic," Jasmine answered. "You?"

"Pretty much the same," Hermione replied as she used her hand to stroke up and down Jasmine's side.

"I feel... I feel like something has awoken in me," Jasmine continued. "It's... it's hard to describe. It's like I was asleep before, going through the motions. But now..."

"I know what you mean — I feel the same. Awake. Refreshed. Invigorated."

"Powerful," Jasmine concluded. "Is this what it feels like to be married?"

"I doubt it feels this way for everyone," Hermione said thoughtfully. "In fact, I'm not sure it even feels this way for every couple that completes a soul bond. I think we were channeling a lot of power that wasn't our own, and that must have affected us."

"Well, more's the pity for them, then." After a pause, Jasmine said. "So, I guess we finally went all the way this time?"

Hermione snorted. "All the way? I think we made a couple of round trips on that train."

"Were you able to figure out what exactly it is that counts as going all the way?"

"No," Hermione answered, "though I don't think it was any one thing. Instead, it simply came down to us and our intentions. There was no single act that could have done it for us. It depended on what we wanted from the experience. On what we intended for each other and for our relationship."

"Will and intent?" Jasmine said with a knowing look.

Hermione nodded, then sat up to gaze around the room. Seeing cracked, charred walls, she asked, "Did we do all of that?"

Jasmine sat up as well to see what Hermione was talking about. "I wouldn't have thought so, but you did say something about channeling a lot of extra power. I hope we didn't, you know, break the castle or anything."

"We should probably get out of here," Hermione said as she stretched again, giving Jasmine all kinds of delightful ideas for why they shouldn't go anywhere yet. When she reached out and pulled Hermione back down next to her, she shared a few of those ideas and found that Hermione liked them as much as she did, so they made a few more round trips.

* * *

 **Sunday, October 31, 1995, Late Night.**

When Albus Dumbledore woke, he wasn't feeling nearly so refreshed or invigorated. Instead, he felt like the Hogwarts Express had run him over... then stopped, gone into reverse, and run him over again, just to be sure.

Several times.

He groaned as he put a heavily bandaged hand on his head and tried to figure out what had happened. Slowly the memories started to return: the box. Umbridge. Boredom. Screaming. Pain. He tried to sit up and groaned even louder, then a hand pressed down on his chest, ending his attempt to sit.

"None of that, now," he heard Madam Pomfrey say. "You've been severely injured."

"Do you know what happened?" he asked.

"Something exploded outside your office window," came the voice of Professor McGonagall. "According to the portraits — at least those brave enough to still be in your office when I went in to check — it was something you threw out the window. Care to share with us what that was?"

"No, not right now. What of Madam Umbridge?"

"She was injured badly, too," Pomfrey said. "Her back was riddled with magic-infused metal of some sort, and it's going to take me a while to extract it all. Then I'll need to determine whether the magic in the shrapnel has harmed her, so she'll be in here for at least a day, maybe two."

Dumbledore's eyes flew open as a distant memory surged into his consciousness. "Minerva!" he croaked out. Her face appeared above him, etched with worry. "Help me sit up."

"Albus, you know better than that," she chastised him. "Poppy still needs to—"

"No!" he said as forcefully as he could, though it still came out as a hoarse whisper. "This is absolutely vital. There's a job that needs to be done. I should be the one to do it, but if I'm stuck in this bed, then you... yes, that might work. I might be able to do more good from here, but you'll have a lot to do as well. You and Poppy both."

"Whatever are you talking about, Albus?" McGonagall looked up and away from him. "Poppy? Are you sure he didn't hit his head?"

"I promise you I am not delusional," Dumbledore insisted. "I have an arrangement with Madam Bones to get rid of Minister Fudge." At their shocked expressions, he clarified, "To get him out of the Ministry for a day. I assure you, I am not conspiring to assassinate the man." _Not that that solution wouldn't simplify matters..._ he thought with an inward sigh. "It will take work and careful timing, however."

"Explain," McGonagall said, and explain he did. Once both women understood what was going on, they discussed various ways they could make Umbridge's condition appear worse in a manner that would keep Fudge around as long as possible. While Dumbledore continued to rest, McGonagall left to floo Madam Bones and give her the code word because she wouldn't recognize McGonagall's patronus. Bones promised to start contacting people she trusted and to let McGonagall know when the best time was for Fudge to be summoned. She would then get the trial organized while Minerva or someone else ensured that Sirius Black got to the Ministry at the right time.

When McGonagall later floo'd to Grimmauld Place to deliver the news, she was horrified to find Sirius passed out drunk, far beyond the ability of her sobering charms to help.


	25. Back in Black

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

For those who are interested, I've begun publishing the third installment of my Witches of SHIELD series: _Iris Potter and the Exile from Asgard_. New chapters will appear every Tuesday morning, and you can find it via my profile.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Don't Look Back in Anger" by robst. Hermione challenges Minister Fudge in his refusal to believe Harry's story about the return of Voldemort, asking him who he thinks is responsible for Cedric's death if Harry is lying or delusional. Fudge agrees — and promptly has Harry arrested! H/Hr/L.

 _Italics:_ a person's thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 25 - Back in Black**

 **Monday, November 1, 1995, Very Early Morning.**

Amelia Bones looked at the aurors and other reliable Ministry employees gathered in her office. She had been up extremely late the previous night making floo calls to people she trusted about holding an emergency Wizengamot session early Monday. At the appointed time, they would each try to find at least one other member of the Wizengamot and come to the Ministry. Secrecy was so great that few would know that they were being brought in for a trial. Most were being fed a story about hearing the results of a secret investigation; the actual trial wouldn't start until Sirius Black was led into the chambers.

First, though, Fudge needed to be removed. Everything hinged on Dumbledore's ability to attract Fudge to Hogwarts and keep him there for a day at least. How he would accomplish that when he was possibly more injured than Umbridge was anyone's guess, but she had assurances that they could pull it off, so she was going to stick her neck out to do her part. It was her plan, after all.

After one last check of the time, she nodded to her two lieutenants. O'Connor took half the people and would place them at various entry points around the Ministry to monitor who was coming and leaving. Scrimgeour took the rest to set up around the Wizengamot chambers so that that area could be controlled. Bones herself went to her private floo to alert Hogwarts.

After that, it would be out of her hands until Sirius Black arrived. She just hoped someone or something was watching over them all and would help guide events to a just conclusion. They needed all the help they could get.

* * *

 **Monday, November 1, 1995, Early Morning.**

When Jasmine and Hermione entered the Great Hall for an early breakfast, they felt as alert and refreshed as they ever had. They didn't miss the fact that their friends were all watching them closely, wondering about what they had witnessed the night before. "We're going to have to tell them about that veela theory about the goddesses," Jasmine whispered. Hermione agreed, not seeing any other option that would be fair to the others.

Mail started arriving even before they could get their breakfasts dished up, and Jasmine was surprised to have a half dozen owls land in front of her. Even more surprising was what the owls were carrying: letters from people she didn't know. A few expressed support for her against what the Ministry had been saying, a couple were from critics who believed the Ministry, and the rest were from people who simply wanted to thank her for what she'd done as a toddler.

Jasmine looked at her girlfriend with a quizzical expression, but Hermione just shrugged. "I don't know why you'd be getting them all of a sudden."

The _Daily Prophet_ that morning was once again dominated with stories about Sirius Black, this time in the context of yet another attack — an attack on the family of a muggleborn in York. Most of the Great Hall was subdued, though the laughter that kept coming from the Slytherin table was starting to make Jasmine see red.

"Did anyone survive?" Neville asked.

Hermione shook her head. "There were five people in the house and all were killed... very nastily, too, if I'm reading between the lines right. One of them was only eight years old."

"Was it anyone we know?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head again. "The family name is Daldry. I haven't heard of them before. So unless it's someone attending Hogwarts under a different name, they've already graduated or..."

"Or what?" Jasmine asked.

"Or they haven't started yet," Hermione said a bit more softly. "If they had already graduated, I think they'd say so in the article. But if they haven't graduated yet. If it was that little girl..."

"Then they wouldn't say anything because it would let people know that there's a security problem in the Ministry somewhere," Neville finished.

Just then they heard a commotion and looked to the entrance, where they saw Minister Fudge storm in, accompanied by several aurors and other Ministry officials. "Speak of the devil," muttered Hermione.

"What is the meaning of this?" Professor McGonagall demanded as she stood.

"I'm here to place the criminals who assaulted the Chief Inquisitor under arrest," Fudge announced.

"What?" McGonagall asked in genuine confusion.

"Potter and Grazer, obviously," Fudge said irritably.

"Miss Potter and Miss Granger had nothing to do with the injuries that were sustained by both Madam Umbridge and the Headmaster!" McGonagall exclaimed, outraged. "The portraits in the Headmaster's office all agree that the two people injured were the only ones present at the time."

"We'll find out for sure once those two violent rule-breakers have been taken to the Ministry and thoroughly interrogated," Fudge declared pompously, ignoring one of his assistants who was anxiously tugging on his robe.

He wasn't paying attention to the students behind him, so he hadn't noticed that a large number had stood up and drawn their wands, even as Jasmine and Hermione had backed away from the ministry group. They were being closely covered by Gabrielle, Neville, and Ron, while Fleur had stood and moved around the staff table to face the Minister's entourage directly.

The aurors, having expected to have an easy job arresting two underaged witches, suddenly realized that they were being encircled by a great many witches and a few wizards, all with their wands drawn and ugly looks on their faces.

"You have no right to remove students from this school without evidence of any wrongdoing — or even of any crime having been committed in the first place!" McGonagall retorted. "You will not remove either student or anyone else from this school without an official, signed order from the DMLE!"

"I'm the Minister for Magic!" Fudge cried out. "I don't need any signed orders — I can command the aurors on my own!" The tugging from his assistant finally got to be too much and he spun around, snarling, "What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?" Only then did Fudge realize what had been happening in the Great Hall behind him as he saw how dozens of angry students were all facing down the Ministry employees.

All of Fudge's bluster abruptly evaporated. "Though perhaps I should talk to the Chief Inquisitor before making any decisions..." he hedged.

"That would be an excellent idea," McGonagall said tartly. "I'll escort you to the hospital wing, just to make sure there are no... problems along the way." As the aurors and other Ministry officials moved towards the doors, the students began to relax and start returning to their seats. Jasmine, Hermione, and Gabrielle, however, remained at the ready until all the Ministry officials had left the Great Hall entirely.

"Thanks, Lavender, Parvati," Hermione said to two of the witches who were among the last to sit down. They both smiled back proudly.

"We're going to have to be careful today," Jasmine whispered to her friends. "If he was willing to try it once, he'll try it again."

"Maybe," Neville said. "If he decided to do that at the last minute, he might not be very committed to the idea."

"Except that he was embarrassed. Publicly," Luna pointed out as her face darkened. "People who get embarrassed like that don't forget about it. They always strike back. Trust me, I know."

Hermione nodded. "Luna's right. He may not try again today, but after yet another public insult, he'll come after us again. And he's just shown that he doesn't respect Hogwarts enough to not come after us even here."

"Another reason why we have to get rid of Umbridge," Gabrielle said darkly. "As long as she is here, she is a threat to you."

Before anyone could respond, Gabrielle saw Fleur motioning to follow her into the side room where the champions had first met the previous year.

* * *

By the time Minister Fudge had arrived in the hospital wing, his previous bluster was well on its way to coming back, bolstered by his anger at having been embarrassed by all of those brats down in the Great Hall. _Clearly Potter and Ginger have been an even worse influence on this school than I realized_ , he fumed. _Dolores' reports were bad enough, but either she hasn't been paying enough attention or she has been holding something back! I need to remove those two before they incite a full-fledged rebellion against me and the Ministry! Yes, maybe Potter has been the real threat all along and not Dumbledore!_

Most of his complaints were temporarily forgotten when he saw how bad Umbridge looked as she lay in the hospital bed. "What's wrong with her, exactly?" he demanded. "The message I received didn't contain any details."

Professor McGonagall, who had refused to engage him or respond to any of his complaints during the walk from the Great Hall, simply pursed her lips and stood to the side as Madam Pomfrey stepped forward to address him. "She was injured first from the shockwave of an explosion, then from more than two dozen pieces of magic-infused metal that struck her in the back. I finally finished removing all of that metal earlier this morning, but it was in her long enough for the magic to have affected her. I won't be sure about her prognosis until later today, but I expect her to have to stay here for at least another day or two."

"Why are you treating her here if her injuries are so bad?"

"Her condition is too delicate to risk moving her," Pomfrey explained.

Fudge nodded as he looked across the room and saw curtains around another bed. "Who's over there?" he asked.

"That's where we have Albus," Pomfrey answered. "He was injured much more severely. According to the portraits, he shielded Madam Umbridge from the explosion with his own body."

"I'd like to talk to—" Fudge started, but he was immediately interrupted by the Healer.

"I told you, he was much more severely injured. He's been unconscious ever since we brought him in here, and I don't expect him to wake up for a couple of days at least. In fact, I may have to call St. Mungo's for some expert advice on his condition."

Fudge was taken slightly aback at that, but he quickly recovered and moved over to Umbridge's bed. "Well, I suppose there is nothing to be done right now. I should return to—"

"Cornelius!" Umbridge said as she suddenly opened her eyes and stretched out one hand. "Cornelius, you came!"

Startled by her abrupt actions, Fudge jumped back a step, but then he moved forward again and sat in a chair that had been left next to her bed. "Of course I did, Dolores," he said. "I'm glad to see you're awake. You'll be out of here soon, I'm sure of it."

"Cornelius," Umbridge whispered hoarsely. She looked as though she wanted to say something, but then she looked at all the people standing nearby. "We need to talk," she continued. "The danger is greater than we realized!"

Fudge looked around as well, then ordered everyone to move away from the bed. After casting a privacy charm around them for good measure, he said, "Tell me, what have you found?"

"I've been keeping detailed notes," she explained as her eyes darted around furtively. "I've spelled them so that only you and I can access them. And they can't be removed from my office!"

"Why would you do that?" Fudge asked with a frown.

"We can't take a chance on anyone else finding out about it," she said, the desperation clear in her voice. She reached out and grabbed Fudge's robes, trying to pull him closer as she pulled herself up slightly up off the bed. "Some of those... some of those close to you... Cornelius, you can't trust **anyone**! I'm sure... I'm sure that I have all the clues to identify the traitors, but I haven't had the time..."

Umbridge then collapsed back on the bed, falling unconscious just as quickly as she had woken. Fudge stood slowly, his hands shaking as he thought about what he'd just heard. _Some of the people I've been trusting might not deserve my trust?_ he asked himself. _There might be traitors on my staff, people who have been working to help overthrow the Ministry? I have to find out who they are... I have to learn what Dolores managed to find out. What if this was an assassination attempt by those who feared what she learned? I will have to be extra careful..._

Dispelling the charm he'd cast, he turned to the Ministry officials who'd come to Hogwarts with him and ordered them back to the Ministry, then asked McGonagall to take him to Umbridge's offices. She sent for a house elf, saying that she wanted to sit with the Headmaster for a bit before her first class. Fudge barely listened as he followed the elf out of the hospital wing, focusing instead on how he could protect himself and wondering if he should cut off all contact with the Ministry until he was sure that he'd found all the traitors in his administration.

* * *

Shortly after the door to the hospital wing closed, Umbridge opened one eye, looked around, and whispered, "Is he gone?"

"Yes, he's gone," Poppy said as she walked over and started casting diagnostic charms.

"Good," Umbridge said with a sigh. "That was quite a bit more difficult than I had anticipated." She looked over at McGonagall and added, "Minerva, if you would?"

She nodded and cast a patronus, knowing that Madam Bones would recognize it now. After whispering a single word to it, the cat disappeared through an outer wall.

"The die is cast," Umbridge said slowly. "We just have to hope that everyone else will be able to fulfill their roles properly. Do you know if Sirius is ready?"

McGonagall rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Molly promised that she'd have him sober and ready, even if it killed him."

Umbridge chuckled. "I have no doubt that she will succeed, then. I almost feel sorry for him."

"At least I was able to get Remus sober," McGonagall continued. "I'm not sure who else would have had the skills and imagination to forge all of those documents in time."

"Will you want another dose?" Poppy asked.

"No," Umbridge responded. "A house elf will notify us if Fudge or anyone else approaches the hospital wing. In the meantime, just keep us both concealed by your curtains and leave a dose by my bed."

"Very well, Albus," McGonagall said. "I need to go teach my first class. Do get some rest, if you can."

* * *

 **Monday, November 1, 1995, Late Morning.**

When Sirius stumbled through the floo into the Ministry atrium, he was barely able to stay on his feet. He didn't have difficulty with floo travel like his goddaughter, but he was suffering from one of the worst hangovers he'd ever had the misfortune to experience. _It's even worse than the night of graduation_ , he thought, _though not nearly as bad as the one after James' bachelor party. Ooh-wee, that was a doozy..._

"Sirius Orion Black?" came a very officious-sounding voice.

Blinking hard against the bright lights of the Ministry atrium — Molly had taken just enough pity on him to keep the lights low at headquarters, but that had been the extent of her compassion — he looked around, trying to figure out who was talking to him. Finally he found the red-robed auror and immediately gulped, recognizing the man he'd pissed on in Hogsmeade last spring.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I'm to take you into custody pending your trial," the auror answered. "You will not be restrained or even technically placed under arrest so long as you do not resist and obey all instructions — and I have been informed that you intend to cooperate. Do you understand these conditions?"

Sirius nodded reflexively, then clutched at his head as his headache shifted back into high gear. "Yes," he gasped. "I understand and intend to cooperate."

"Did we call you in at a bad time?" came a new voice.

Sirius opened his eyes slowly and saw Amelia Bones flanked by more aurors step up. "Last night was... well, I guess you know what it was," Sirius responded. "I have a tendency to get drunk on that night every year, remembering the deaths of my best friends and the mistakes I made which helped cause those deaths."

All of the aurors quickly had more sober expressions on their faces, and Bones nodded understandingly. "I usually do too, as a matter of fact, but preparation for today took precedence." She then gestured for Sirius to follow her.

"I'd have refrained myself if I'd had any idea this was coming," he went on as he fell into step beside her. "But I was already too far gone when someone came to tell me. Mo... er, a friend spent the last few hours getting me awake and sober."

Bones eyed him appraisingly. "I'm guessing it wasn't a pleasant process."

"Not for me, no," Sirius said ruefully. "I think _she_ enjoyed it, though."

"Well, hopefully the rest of the day will go better," Bones said, changing the subject. "We've already got enough of the Wizengamot to hold a trial, but I'd like to wait a little longer to see if anyone else makes it in. The more people there, the more legitimate the verdict will appear. So I'll conduct a preliminary interview with you, and you'll need to give me an overview of everything that happened. Anything that you can think of which we might be able to use, I need you to tell me — no matter how small. This _should_ be an easy case, but we can't take any chances."

Sirius murmured his agreement as they entered the lift to go down to one of the DMLE interrogation rooms, racking his brain for anything which might help his case... and trying not to let his growing hopes carry him away.

* * *

When Hermione and Jasmine arrived in the dungeon, there was a sign on the lab door saying that all Potions classes had been cancelled for the day.

"Room of Requirement?" Hermione whispered. At Jasmine's nod, they told their friends they were going to go study in private before quickly making their way to the seventh floor.

They couldn't see or hear anyone following them, but they were sure that someone was there, just as they were sure that there had been someone lurking nearby in their History of Magic class. They couldn't explain exactly how they knew, but they were certain that there was a presence of some sort. After what had happened at breakfast that morning, this worried them.

Once inside the Room of Requirement, they took a moment to close their eyes and feel for the presence that had been dogging their steps. When they decided that they were alone, they sat down to get some work done using their tried-and-true system of rewards. For some reason, they managed to get much more done than usual, despite taking time for longer rewards than was normal.

Neither of them saw any reason to complain about that.

* * *

Cornelius Fudge wished he had someone he could complain to, but he didn't. Even if the material he was working through hadn't been keyed to him and Dolores alone, he wouldn't have trusted anyone else with it. He couldn't be sure that they weren't working with the very traitors who wanted to overthrow the Ministry and who had clearly tried to assassinate the Chief Inquisitor when she started getting too close to the truth.

The reason why he was so frustrated was that Dolores had inexplicably chosen not to limit herself to magic to conceal her notes on what she had learned. Every page first had to have a complicated counter-charm cast on it, then the code on it had to be deciphered — but he had a limited window of time to do it. If he wasn't fast enough, he had to cast the counter-charm _again_. And sometimes the code changed, which meant he'd have to start once more from the top.

It was maddening, but he couldn't deny that any method which frustrated him so much would have also made it difficult for any spies who managed to break the enchantment limiting access to him and Dolores. Despite the frustrations, he was making progress. He'd only been at it for a few hours, but he'd already come across several tantalizing clues about spies, traitors, and saboteurs working in the Ministry.

 _If only I had some names_ , he grumbled to himself as he cast the counter-charm for the third time on the same piece of parchment. _There aren't any obvious patterns of behavior that would point to anyone, but that just means that the conspiracy is so large that there are quite a few people involved. Should I go back and ask...?_

Fudge was abruptly hit by a strong urge to keep working and not share his findings with anyone else. _No, no, if she had known any names for certain, she'd have told me_ , Fudge concluded. _The more rest she gets now, the sooner she'll be back on her feet and working for me again. I'll just keep plugging away at this... who knows, maybe I'll see something she missed. I_ _ **am**_ _the Minister for Magic, after all!_

* * *

 **Monday, November 1, 1995, Lunch.**

Amelia Bones closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath, trying to relax while giving no sign of the real exhaustion she felt. _Can't show any weakness_ , she repeated to herself. _No matter how well it seems to be going, I can't show any weakness._

"This has been a very interesting morning," came a familiar voice. "A very interesting and, dare I say, curious morning as well."

"Why do you say that, Madam Longbottom?" she asked as she opened her eyes.

"It's interesting because so many assumptions that people have held since the end of the war have been overturned here over the course of the morning," she answered. "It's curious that we were all brought in under strict secrecy to hear it... and even more curious that we aren't being allowed out for the short lunch recess."

"There are still a few more important issues that need to be covered," Bones explained, "and I don't wish the wrong people to find out before the Wizengamot has a chance to decide if any action should be taken."

"Wrong people?" Madam Longbottom asked with one raised eyebrow. "I noticed that Minister Fudge isn't here, which is highly irregular."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not at liberty to say right now," Bones replied. "But it will all be clear before the session ends this afternoon."

"Oh, of that I have no doubt," the older witch said as she made her way back to her seat. Bones looked around the chambers, wondering how many of those present suspected what was coming. _It shouldn't be too hard to figure out_ , Bones thought. _Pettigrew's interrogation wasn't the only thing presented so far, but it was the most controversial. More than a few people here should have figured out by now that if there is any chance that Black is innocent, then a hearing of some sort has to be coming sooner or later._

Mentally shrugging, she started eating her lunch, trying to get it finished as quickly as possible so she could make last-minute preparations for the afternoon circus.

* * *

As Hermione and Jasmine ate lunch, they kept casting suspicious glances at Gabrielle, who herself was looking everywhere but at the other two girls. They knew she was watching for potential dangers to them, which they appreciated. What had them concerned was the fact that there was something about her presence that they thought they could _feel_.

For a while now they'd felt comforted by the presence of the two veela — nothing obvious or overt, just a general feeling of calmness and safety. Now, though, there was something more. They couldn't identify it, except to say that there was _something_. It also started to dawn on them that they had occasionally been feeling it even when Gabrielle wasn't around, and that concerned them even more.

* * *

 **Monday, November 1, 1995, Afternoon.**

Nymphadora Tonks smiled in barely-disguised glee as she observed the chaos erupting around her in the Wizengamot. She kept an eye out for anyone who looked like they might become a threat, but she couldn't help but take pleasure in what her cousin Sirius had just done with his testimony — and testimony given under veritaserum, no less!

Her mother had always found it difficult to believe that Sirius had betrayed the Potters, and Tonks' own hazy memories of the man had all been positive, so she hadn't grown up hating him quite as much as everyone else. That had made it easier for her to accept his innocence and reconnect with him over the past summer. No one in the Order had dared hope that he would get a trial this quickly, but now it looked as though she'd finally be able to talk to her mother about Sirius. She'd hated keeping that from her.

She tensed when she saw out of the corner of her eye a wizard reach into his robes, but relaxed again when she realized that it was only a piece of parchment that he pulled out. _Stay focused_ , she told herself. _You can celebrate tonight, assuming the rest of the trial goes as well as everything else has today._

* * *

Both Hermione and Jasmine had trouble concentrating on what Professor Babbling was saying during Runes class. Almost as soon as the class had started, they looked at each other and wordlessly confirmed that they were both able to detect the mysterious presence that they had felt that morning in History. They still weren't sure what it was, but the more they concentrated on it, the more... distinct it felt. And familiar.

Whatever or whoever it was, they were sure they'd figure it out — and then they'd express their _displeasure_ at being spied on.

* * *

 **Monday, November 1, 1995, Late Afternoon.**

Sirius stopped and took a long, deep breath as he looked up at the bright blue sky.

"Something wrong?" Tonks asked.

"Just enjoying my first breaths as a free man," Sirius answered as he adjusted his black dragonhide jacket and put on a pair a dark sunglasses. "A truly free man, not on the run or wanted anymore. It's been too long."

"There will be a lot more of those to follow — that's why Madam Bones assigned me to be your escort and bodyguard for the next few days," she said.

Sirius grinned. "Feels weird having my much-younger cousin as my bodyguard, but I don't want to have to duel every other person as people try to collect the reward on me."

"So, where to first?" Tonks asked.

"To get a new wand. I'm still mad that the Ministry destroyed my old one, but I can't delay getting a good, matched wand for myself."

"After all you've been through, your old wand might not have worked as well for you anymore," she pointed out.

"Huh," he said, looking over at her in surprise. "I never considered that — you might be right. Well, let's not waste any more time hanging around here outside the Ministry. First, Ollivander's. Then, better clothing. Finally, Gringotts!"

"Then someplace to buy booze for the party tonight?" Tonks asked with a mischievous grin.

"Ugh, no!" Sirius moaned, putting his hands on his head. "Please, I only just got rid of my headache from last night!"

Tonks couldn't help but laugh as Sirius started walking away. "C'mon, let's walk," he said. "It's only about fifteen minutes to Diagon Alley, and I feel like enjoying my freedom!"

"Hey," she called out, "you still need to make an appointment to meet Madam Bones!"

* * *

Hermione and Jasmine remained in their seats as the rest of the students left Defense, though they had to reassure Neville, Ron, Lavender and Parvati that they'd be alright before the others were willing to leave them behind completely. Once Fleur had sealed the door, she turned to them with a questioning look and noticed that both seemed more than a little miffed.

"OK, Gabrielle," Jasmine said. "You can come out now."

Fleur groaned as the girls turned in their seats to see Gabrielle shimmer into visibility in the back of the room. "I told you," the younger veela said with a smirk as she walked up to the front of the classroom. She held out her hand while Fleur reached into her robes and pulled out a galleon coin which she handed over.

"Would either of you like to tell us what's going on?" Hermione asked, clearly annoyed.

"My sister was worried zat ze Minister or one of his minions might try something today," Gabrielle responded. "She asked me to follow you while disillusioned so I could help if something happened."

"And the galleon she just gave you?" Jasmine asked.

"I told her zat you would figure out I was around," Gabrielle said, looking justifiably smug. "She didn't believe me."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Hermione asked.

"I didn't want you to inadvertently give it away," Fleur answered before her sister could say anything. "If you knew she was there, I zought you might keep looking in her direction. Zat would have tipped off any competent auror. I take your protection very seriously, and I didn't want to take any chances."

Jasmine sighed, still clearly irritated. "OK, that's understandable, but we still don't like it. If you have simply told us about the possible problem, we'd have avoided doing anything wrong."

"Not telling us was probably more of a risk," Hermione said. "We knew someone or something was watching us as early as History of Magic class this morning—" Gabrielle shot her sister a triumphant look "—but we were worried that it was a threat, like maybe an auror following us and waiting for the right moment to strike. We've been on edge all day."

"When did you know it was me?" Gabrielle asked.

"We first started to wonder at lunch," Jasmine answered. "After spending so much of the morning focusing on the mysterious presence, seeing you at lunch felt... odd. Once we came to Defense class, though, everything started falling into place because Fleur felt different as well; then the feeling increased, which we concluded was you coming into the room."

"How is it zat you are feeling us?" Fleur asked.

Hermione shrugged. "We don't know. We didn't notice anything before today."

Fleur slumped back in her chair. "Ah, yes, ze ritual. Zat must be it. Gabrielle said zat she could feel your presence already zis morning. Now zat your soul bond has been consummated, you will be able to sense each other on some level. I guess it makes sense zat you will be able to sense us as well, since you also have a bond to us."

"I believe zat my spending more time around ze two of you made it easier," Gabrielle added.

"Just... don't do it again, OK?" Hermione asked. "I mean, assuming there's time or opportunity to tell us, then please do so."

"Alright," Fleur conceded. "I'm sorry I acted without talking to you first."

"So, enough with ze drama already!" Gabrielle said as she plunked herself down in a chair opposite the girls and looked at them eagerly. "Tell us all about last night!"

"Gabrielle!" Fleur cried indignantly as the other two witches started blushing.

* * *

 **Monday, November 1, 1995, Evening.**

Immediately after dinner, Professor McGonagall told Jasmine and Hermione about Sirius having gotten a surprise trial that day and having been declared completely innocent of all charges. Once they heard that, there was really no hope of getting any more work done for the rest of the day. Ideally they would have been able to go visit him; since they couldn't do that, they decided to celebrate on their own.

That's why they ended up in the Room of Requirement, dancing and laughing. All day they'd felt a strong pull towards one another, but there had been so many problems and mysteries that they hadn't had much chance to act on it — not that there was much they could have done in public anyway. Now, though, they could do pretty much as they wished — and what they wished was as much physical contact as possible.

"Do you think Professor McGonagall will help me deliver a letter to him?" Jasmine asked.

"I don't see why not," Hermione responded. "Just don't ask her too often. She wouldn't like being treated like an owl. Oh! Why not ask Dobby and Winky? We have so little for them to do as it is!"

"Ugh, you're right," Jasmine said. "I totally forgot that they can deliver letters if necessary."

"Just don't use them too often, either," Hermione pointed out. "Remember that the long distance travel tires them out."

"Now that that problem is solved, let's forget about everyone else for a while, hm?" As Jasmine said this, the bed from the previous night appeared nearby.

It only took a few seconds for clothes to be shed so the two witches could embark on the first of several more round trips on the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

Severus Snape wasn't having nearly so pleasant of an evening. He'd barely been able to catch more than a few minutes sleep here and there since he'd been summoned to Malfoy Manor the previous night. As a Potions Master he had quite a bit of familiarity with magical ailments and the potions needed to treat them, but he wasn't a Healer and couldn't easily substitute for one. Nevertheless, he was expected to examine, diagnose, and treat not only the Dark Lord, but also the Dark Lord's familiar.

 _Merlin_ , he lamented to himself, _I know even less about how to treat snakes than I do about how to treat humans. For me, snakes are potions ingredients, not patients! I'm pretty sure that Nagini is going to die. I've been lucky that I've been able to keep her unconscious and comfortable so far. I have no idea what caused her condition, and skelegrow would be more likely to kill her than it would to repair her spine._

The Dark Lord was still unconscious, which might be good or bad. As long as he was unconscious, he couldn't torture Snape into insanity or worse for his failure to heal Nagini. The longer he remained that way, though, the more displeased he would be when he finally awoke.

He and Snape had been working for months to figure out why he was still experiencing pain and why he fell unconscious periodically. So far, they'd been unable to determine what was happening, nor had they been able to develop any successful treatments. Most recently Snape had experimented with a modified form of Rat Tonic, this one made with the brains of actual rats, and administered it almost as soon as he arrived a little less than twenty-four hours earlier. He didn't really expect it to work, but given the danger he was in, he was willing to grasp at any straw that came along.

 _I'm not sure that I should inform the Dark Lord that I've been dosing him with pureed rat brain every few hours, though_ , Snape thought tiredly as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Cornelius Fudge wasn't even able to enjoy the bliss of sleep. An elf had put a cot in a corner of Dolores' office, but he was extremely reluctant to stop working. Every time he began to think that it would be nice to take a short nap, he seemed to discover something new in what he was deciphering and felt a burst of desire to keep pushing forward, convinced that he was on the brink of making a major discovery.

No such discovery came, but that never caused him to become disillusioned with his project. If anything, it merely reinforced his conviction that there was a massive conspiracy against him and the Ministry which only he, the Minister for Magic, could uncover.

 _I'm close_ , he thought feverishly, _I know I'm close! I can feel it... I just need a bit more information, then I'll finally be able to put all of the pieces together! Once I know who all the traitors are, I'll round them up and ship them off to Azkaban. I just need to keep going for a little longer..._


	26. Rhiannon

**A/N 2:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Holly Evans and the Spiral Path" by wordhammer. This is the longest, most detailed, and certainly darkest FemHarry story out there. I can't really say much without giving away too much about the plot. It's a good, strong story, but it's not for the faint of heart.

* * *

 **Chapter 26 - Rhiannon**

 **Tuesday, November 2, 1995, Morning.**

The entire Great Hall was buzzing over the headline in the _Daily Prophet:_

 **SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT!**

"I'm surprised they were willing to print that story," Hannah said to Susan. "Even before this past summer, they were never too keen on publishing anything that might make the Ministry look bad. But recently..."

"True," Susan agreed, "but this story was way too big to ignore. And too many people were at the trial. Word would have gotten out, and the paper would have looked bad for suppressing this. I know my auntie has been trying to arrange for this trial for a while now."

"Still no trouble with letters going back and forth?" Hannah asked.

"Nope," Susan said as she shook her head. "So far the Ministry spells she put on our owls are preventing any Ministry employees from interfering. Don't know how long that will last, but I intend to take advantage of it while I can."

Hannah nodded as she kept reading. "Hey," she suddenly said, "look at this — it says that Sirius Black is Jasmine's godfather!"

"Let me see," Susan replied, pulling the paper closer so they could both read it. "You're right, he is."

"I wonder why she never said anything," Hannah remarked with a frown.

"I'm not surprised," Susan said as she looked over to where Jasmine, Hermione, and their fellow Gryffindors were happily reading the same story. "I mean, it was pretty explosive information, and I'm sure she didn't want anyone suspecting that she might know where he was."

"I'll bet she did!" Hannah said excitedly. "Do you think maybe she helped him?"

Susan shrugged. "Maybe. If so, that's even more reason not to tell anyone — especially me, given who my auntie is. Some secrets you can't trust with anyone, no matter how good of a friend they are."

"I don't know," Hannah said slowly. "I'll bet Hermione knew. Ron might have as well, but I'm sure Hermione did. I don't think they keep anything from each other."

Susan looked more closely at the interaction between Jasmine and Hermione and gave some thought to their behavior over the past few years.

* * *

 **Tuesday, November 2, 1995, Evening.**

It was obvious that the witches in the study group had been on edge throughout the Tuesday evening training session. Even Neville and Blaise could see that something had them distracted, though they had no idea what it was. Jasmine and Hermione finally decided to finish up early so they could be sure to get the coming conversation over with before curfew.

"Alright," Jasmine said once the witches were alone, "let's have it."

"What happened Sunday night?" Padma demanded. "I've never heard of anything remotely like that, and I've tried to read a lot on magical rituals. Samhain was one of the few that I actually found decent information on."

"Your eyes were glowing!" Susan said. "Glowing! They weren't doing that on the Autumnal Equinox or on Midsummer's Eve, were they?"

"No, definitely no glowing eyes," Tracey chimed in. "But let's not forget, oh, the massive amounts of magical power swirling around us? Standing at the base of a giant bloody tornado of magic?"

"OK, settle down," Hermione called out as she raised her hands. "There are some things we can say and other things we can't. Some things are... well, a bit too personal." When she saw the looks they were giving her, she added, "It's not that we don't trust you, but... well, they're things we've only told a couple of people. When we do decide to tell others, you'll be among the first."

"Do any of you know Occlumency?" Jasmine asked.

"I've gotten some training in it," Susan replied, "but I don't get a lot of practice except with Hannah."

"Same here," Daphne said. Tracey and Padma nodded as well.

"We know for a fact that there are at least two teachers in the castle that know Legilimency and at least sometimes use it on students: Snape and Dumbledore," Hermione said, getting gasps of shock from the others. "It will be easier for us to tell you more if you get better with Occlumency — at least to the point where you can detect someone trying to enter your mind so you can break eye contact. We should have thought to bring this up before. There are enough of us here that we should be able to get in lots of practice with each other." All of the girls looked troubled but were more than willing to get the extra help.

"As far as Samhain goes," Jasmine said, "the short answer is: we don't know for sure. No one knows for sure, in fact. There is, however, a theory. Something similar happened back at Bel... aw, sod it — Beltane. We went to Beltane, OK? Anyway, something similar happened then, and it surprised the veela who were there. It was big because they expected something better than what they usually experience, but it went way beyond anything they'd ever even heard of."

"Of course they tried to figure out why," Hermione continued. "You already know that the veela believe that the goddesses they honor during a ritual will, if they are pleased with the ritual, bless it by enhancing and multiplying the magic which the participants put into it. Some of the veela have come to the conclusion that instead of the goddesses merely blessing the magic of others, they somehow joined with me and Jasmine, contributing their magic, power, and intent to the ritual directly."

"We weren't possessed," Jasmine hastened to add. "We just had... well, passengers for a little while. Or at least that's what some of the veela believe."

"And what do you believe?" Susan asked with some trepidation.

Jasmine sighed. "I honestly don't know. I mean, before our first ritual a little over a year ago, I'd never heard of anyone today still believing in these ancient goddesses. And apparently while some veela believe these goddesses exist as independent entities, others believe that they are all aspects of a single goddess. And I suppose either situation is compatible with what Hermione and I experienced. But is that what happened?"

"There are a few things which lend a bit of credence to that theory," Hermione added. "No proof, which the veela freely admit, but I don't want you to think that they came up with that explanation out of nowhere."

All of the Hogwarts witches started arguing and debating the issue at that point. None of them found the described theory credible and were trying to come up with alternatives.

"I believe," came a soft voice that managed to cut through the din. Everyone looked over to where Gabrielle was sitting. "I believe," she repeated as she looked around at the skeptical expressions of the other girls.

"I believe in Hermione, a witch who has dedicated herself to helping others learn. How much time has she invested in discovering what's true and what's a lie? How much time has she spent helping all of you learn something you had trouble with?" As she spoke, more than one of the others looked a little embarrassed at having that pointed out. "And of course, she has spent ze most time trying to help Jasmine learn, for example to learn new spells so she could survive in zat tournament last year."

"I believe in Jasmine, a witch who has done more to save others than any other witch I know. She saved me, as you must remember. I was bound and drowning at the bottom of ze Black Lake, when a savior with fiery red hair appeared before me. She gave me air to breathe, and when my captors attacked, she didn't hesitate to fight to defend me. After she was victorious, she saved me. She brought me out of ze cold and ze dark, up into ze light."

Everyone was listening closely now, and Gabrielle focused on the ginger Gryffindor witch. "Did Jasmine not do ze same for you, Ginny? Did she not save you from ze cold and ze dark, slaying zose who wanted to harm you, then bringing you back up into ze light?" Ginny blushed and looked away, not wanting to talk about that particular experience.

"And you, Hermione?" Gabrielle went on. "In your third year, did she not save you from ze cold and ze dark when she drove off all of zose foul Dementors zat wanted to suck out your souls? Did she not lead you back up into ze light when you rode ze hippogriff?" Hermione gaped at the younger veela, never having thought about things in quite those terms.

Gabrielle gazed around at everyone, all of whom looked more thoughtful than skeptical now. "I believe in zem both, and I believe zat zey will save us all." She raised a hand to stop Jasmine's inevitable protest. "Of course zey will need help. No heroine achieves victory without help. But while zey will need zeir friends, zey will still be ze ones to do what ze rest of us cannot. And zey will do it because zey have been touched by ze goddesses. Zey will do it because zey have been chosen by ze goddesses to fix what has been broken, and we will help because zey have chosen us... because we have been found most worthy to help zem fulfill a sacred destiny."

Once Gabrielle was done, she looked defiantly at the others, silently daring them to question or deny anything she'd said. None of them did, though. They didn't quite believe her, but what she'd said had touched them in a way that prevented them from being quite so skeptical, either.

* * *

 **Thursday, November 4, 1994, Very Early Morning.**

Albus Dumbledore was surprised to see Professor McGonagall come marching into the hospital wing so early in the morning. The reason became apparent, however, when she reversed the disillusionment charm she'd placed on the stretcher floating behind her.

"It finally happened, then?" he asked.

"Within the past few hours," she responded. "One of the house elves assigned to check on him notified me."

Dumbledore gingerly rose from his bed and approached the stretcher as Madam Pomfrey began casting her diagnostic spells. It had only been a couple of days, but Cornelius Fudge looked awful. There were dark circles under his eyes, he hadn't shaved, his hair was a mess, he looked rather gaunt, and... "Oh, my," Dumbledore said as he held his nose. "He didn't bother bathing, I take it?"

"He didn't even bother with cleaning charms, it seems," Pomfrey replied.

"That's why I levitated him behind me instead of in front of me," McGonagall said grimly, "and I still had to cast a numbing charm on my nose."

"He'll be alright, at least," Pomfrey finally said. "For the most part, he's only suffering from exhaustion. Some food and rest are all he needs."

"How long until he's on his feet?" McGonagall asked.

"A day at least," Pomfrey answered. "But a good Healer would try to keep him in bed until the weekend."

"Which means he'll be back at work on Monday at the latest, but possibly as early as tomorrow," Dumbledore said. "I feel quite awful having done this to him. Looking at him now, it makes me wonder if we did the right thing."

"That's not something you need to worry about," McGonagall replied. "Remus ensured that this would be more his fault than ours."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, genuinely intrigued. He'd not had a chance to find out what exactly had been done.

"According to Remus," McGonagall explained, "if you or I had tried reading those papers, we would have soon become bored and given up. It was only because Fudge was so incredibly paranoid and suspicious that he kept at them until he collapsed."

"Charmed with a self-reinforcing intent loop?" Dumbledore asked.

"Exactly," McGonagall said. "What's more, he won't be able to remember any of it. Oh, he'll remember spending a lot of time digging through her notes and being frustrated at not finding anything, but that's it. In the end, he'll be annoyed at her for wasting his time and allowing Sirius to go to trial, but he won't be suspicious of anyone having deliberately delayed him.

"Clever," Dumbledore replied. "I'm not sure I would have thought to use something like that — to use his own worst nature against him for our benefit." He looked down again at the man, then said, "I guess that alleviates some of my guilt, but not all of it. For all his faults, I cannot ignore our own part in this.

"His short-term suffering and inconvenience will hopefully be outweighed by the good which Madam Bones has been doing," McGonagall offered.

"At one time, that probably would have assuaged my conscience quite readily," Dumbledore said slowly. "Recently, however, it has been suggested that I may be too ready to allow others to suffer in pursuit of my goals, however important they may be."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at that, but the Headmaster simply shook his head, unwilling to go into greater detail. "I suppose I should send Madam Bones a message, at least."

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "It's official procedure to notify the head of the DMLE when the Minister for Magic has been incapacitated for any reason. Do take your time, though, as the law in question doesn't specify a time frame."

He smiled as she headed for the hospital wing's fireplace instead of casting a patronus while he went back to his bed. It was taking him a long time to fully heal — apparently there had been a dark magical discharge from the explosion which had overwhelmed his shield and done something to him which was slowing his recovery. Fortunately for Umbridge, she hadn't been hit by any of it and was expected to be back at work by Friday — just in time for her office to be cleaned up properly.

Dumbledore had debated telling Madam Pomfrey about the true nature of the object which had exploded, just in case that information would help her treatment of him, but decided that it wasn't worth allowing more people to learn such a dangerous secret.

* * *

 **Friday, November 5, 1994, Late Afternoon.**

Voldemort woke slowly. Due to a habit he'd developed while still living in the orphanage, he avoided giving any outward indication that he was awake. Instead, he allowed himself to gradually become alert, reaching out with his senses to learn where he was and what was going on around him. All he could remember from before losing consciousness was an incredible pain, and he immediately began to catalog the soreness he felt all over his body.

 _What train ran Us over?_ he wondered briefly before realizing that there was one other person in the room and that they were probably asleep. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around, recognizing that he was in his bedroom, though it was dark. He then sat up and in the process discovered that all of the soreness he had when he first awoke seemed to fall away. He suddenly felt much better than he had in months. He flexed his fingers, rolled his head around his shoulders, and twisted his torso. _Yes, We feel good._

He reached around behind him and took his wand, pleased to find it beside his bed where it was supposed to be. He silently cast _Lumos,_ but was disappointed to find that his magic wasn't any better than it had been before.

Almost immediately, Severus Snape's gaunt face appeared out of the gloom as he knelt down next to the bed. "My Lord," he said.

"Explain, Severus," Voldemort commanded. "What happened?"

"I do not know the details, my Lord," Snape answered. "One of your servants heard screaming in your throne room when you were known to be alone. By the time he reached you, you were unconscious, so he immediately sent word to me. I came as quickly as I could."

"Who was that?"

"Marcus Flint, my Lord."

"He's to be given greater responsibilities from now on," Voldemort said. "How long were We unconscious this time?"

"It's been almost five full days, my Lord, the longest yet," Snape replied. "I've been working almost nonstop trying to find a way to revive you. My most recent potion—"

"Seems to have been a success," Voldemort interrupted. "Or a partial one, at least."

"My Lord?" Snape asked.

"We haven't felt this good in almost a year, Severus," Voldemort said. "There's no more pain, not even a little. It's been rare that We haven't had to deal with it, and any respite has never lasted long — nor has it ever been due to any action We have taken. If it lasts this time, you will be richly rewarded."

"Thank you, my Lord." Snape said quietly.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. After such a compliment, the man should have been positively giddy; instead, he seemed tense, which was unusual for him. "What are you not telling Us, Severus?"

Snape's jaw tightened, which only made Voldemort more suspicious. "My Lord, you weren't alone in your throne room when you were found unconscious. Your familiar was by your side, also unconscious."

"And what happened to her?" Voldemort asked dangerously.

"She still hasn't awakened, my Lord," Snape said. "My efforts haven't worked as well on her as they have with you. She injured herself before she lost consciousness, and I don't know how to heal her properly."

Voldemort launched himself out of bed. "Take Us to her. Now!"

* * *

 **Saturday, November 6, 1995, Afternoon.**

Apolline felt a bit like a schoolgirl called before her headmistress as she and Adrienne sat before the Theledrion, preparing to answer questions about their report on the events of Samhain. Despite the fact that the entire operation had been approved by them, most of the witches sitting on the other side of the table looked uncomfortable with what they had read. The fact that Adrienne was next to her instead of on the other side of the table with her fellow council members both comforted and unsettled her.

"We've all read through your report several times," Margaux said, "and we have a number of concerns. The biggest is the one which divided us when we first debated your plan, namely that you may be interfering with prophecy by taking such large steps—"

"And as I argued in my original proposal," Apolline interrupted, "moving the ritual site around is a good idea regardless of what the prophecy does or does not say. Even the less powerful rituals produce significant magical benefits for all the land and creatures surrounding the site."

"And you don't think that deliberately encouraging such results will impact how the prophecy unfolds?" Celeste asked.

"Almost anything those two witches do might affect how prophecy unfolds," Apolline pointed out, "but once we got involved in holding rituals with Miss Potter and Miss Granger, we became committed to continuing down that path. We owe it to them and to ourselves to do our best with the rituals going forward, and I don't think we could possibly do any better than to spread the obvious benefits as widely as possible."

"The impact on the surrounding land is quite impressive," Anaïs said as she read from the report. "There's been a massive upswing in the fairy population, with new fairy mounds and fairy circles popping up all over. Almost every large body of water has an active kelpie population now, and there have been reports of numerous selkies along the coast. The wooded areas have experienced a growth in the pixie populations, too. And that's merely the magical creatures that the goblin scouts were able to spot. Both magical and mundane plant growth are way up, despite how late in the year it is, and magical plant growth is practically off the scale. Aside from that, the scouts report that the local ley lines all seem to have increased in power — and that the power growth hasn't stopped, either. All of the local magical sites, including other nearby ancient stone circles, are all registering more magical power than before, too."

Apolline was surprised when Adrienne decided to speak up. "I think that, regardless of whether you believe that the goddesses are using the Chosen Couple as vessels or not, the results of these rituals can only be happening with their blessings, correct? In that case, we should welcome and encourage these rituals, otherwise we'd be putting ourselves in the position of actively trying to avoid doing something we know the goddesses want." Members of the Theledrion looked back and forth at each other, murmuring.

"That would be hard to argue against," Margaux said slowly, "but what is your point?"

"We don't know the source of the prophecy, whether it was the goddesses or Magic itself," Adrienne admitted, "but either way, do any of you truly believe that the goddesses would seek to interfere with this prophecy?" Most of the other witches looked a bit surprised at that question, apparently not having thought to ask it before. "If for some reason they were trying to interfere, I'm sure they'd succeed without our help — not that I'd want to try stopping them. Would you?"

Apolline smiled at Adrienne, then noticed that several members of the Theledrion were smiling themselves. Not all, of course, but it was only a matter of time. She suspected that the more recalcitrant members had been having trouble reconciling their desire to encourage the rituals with their adherence to strict rules regarding the handling of prophecy. Now, though, Adrienne had handed them all an easy way out.

Margaux sighed heavily. "That argument occurred to me this morning as I was preparing for today's session." At Apolline's surprised expression, she said, "Don't look at me like that — you know how I am. Just because an easy answer presents itself doesn't mean I'm going to leap at it. We need to debate this, and some of us need to try to argue against what Adrienne has said, no matter how appealing it is. If it's the right answer, it will survive the criticism and possibly be stronger for it. If it's not the right answer, we'll find out and be able to move on without having made a serious mistake."

Thus began a long and spirited debate that lasted well into the night.

* * *

 **Saturday, November 6, 1995, Evening.**

Voldemort sat beside Nagini, at a complete loss as to what to do. He could still feel the familiar bond with her, but it was weakening steadily, which told him that she was dying. He thought he should feel more of a connection to her because he'd made her a horcrux soon after he'd regained a body, but that was absent completely — probably because of how close her death was.

He gritted his teeth in barely suppressed rage. Losing a familiar was bad enough, but losing a horcrux was inconceivable — and given the problems he'd been having with his magic, he dared not try again. _We probably shouldn't have done it so soon after regaining a body, and certainly not with her_ , he lamented. _But We needed one more... and will again soon, probably, but that will have to wait._

As she took her final breaths, he stretched out a bone-white hand and stroked her head, wishing that there was something he could do. _Death takes you, my dear, but I swear that it shall never take Lord Voldemort!_

* * *

 **Sunday, November 7, 1995, Afternoon.**

Professor McGonagall sighed as she poured tea for herself, then looked at Jasmine and Hermione. "Quite a lot has happened this past week," she said. "I wanted to talk to you sooner, but I've been incredibly busy. It took some effort to set aside time for this."

"Your being so busy," Hermione said, "is it related to what's been going on with Professor Dumbledore and Umbridge?"

Minerva's tea cup stopped just shy of her lips. "How did you know about that?" she asked.

"We didn't," Jasmine said with a grin. "Not until now, at least."

"We suspected, though," Hermione added quickly. "They've both been absent all week, and that's unusual."

Minerva pursed her lips in annoyance. "Well, since you've already figured so much out on your own... yes, it is related to them. And to your godfather. The Headmaster and Madam Umbridge were both injured in some sort of accident. We used that unfortunate event to our advantage and helped ensure that Sirius got his trial. Both the Headmaster and Umbridge are out of the hospital wing, though the Headmaster will need time to recover fully."

She held up her hand to stop the questions she could already see being formed. "No, that's all I'm going to tell you. You're lucky I told you that much — you don't need to know the details. Now, Miss Potter, have you heard from your godfather?"

Jasmine swallowed the dozen or so questions that had been on the tip of her tongue and said instead, "We've exchanged a couple of letters. Hermione and I weren't sure we'd be able to, what with Umbridge threatening to monitor the mail and Hedwig getting injured. But it turns out that Dobby and Winky can carry letters, so we use them."

Minerva nodded in approval. "That's good. It will take time for Sirius to recover from his experiences, but he's already doing remarkably well."

"He's also said that I can live with him now," Jasmine said. "Well, he already said that before, back at the end of third year in fact, and then he said it again this summer after he learned that I had been lucky enough to be kicked out by the Dursleys. But now that he's been declared innocent, it's official. And, you know, legal and all. We don't have to hide or anything. Well, except from Voldemort, but that goes without saying."

Hermione reached out and stroked Jasmine's arm, glad to see her so happy and excited about someone else wanting her in their life.

Minerva smiled, also pleased that this particular chapter of Jasmine's life was getting a happy ending. "Now then, we simply must talk about what happened at that ritual," she said next. "It was clear to me that quite a lot more was going on than occurred during any of the previous rituals I attended — yet at the same time, not everyone was surprised by this. The other students were, but not you and not any of the veela. I was a bit too shaken up at the time to ask, and then you left quickly, but I need to know what is going on. I cannot approve of the other students continuing to participate in these events otherwise."

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other in surprise, since neither had considered the possibility that their professor would see the unusual nature of the ritual as problematic.

"We're sorry you didn't know," Hermione started. "We only learned about the potential for something unusual occurring a few days before. It wasn't certain that it would happen, and even then it was expected to be like what happened on Beltane — a ritual that apparently created massive benefits for all involved. So it never occurred to us to warn anyone."

"Also, we were rather preoccupied," Jasmine said. "Aside from the extra visit to my parents graves, we had, uh, planned for that night to... um, well, finalize our bond."

Minerva's eyes widened. "Finalized? You've finalized your bond? That's wonderful news! I'm so happy for you two. I'm not surprised you were preoccupied! Do you feel any different?"

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other again. "We feel... better," Hermione answered, groping for words. "It's as if we're more awake or something. More aware. Everything seems clearer, like it's in sharper focus. We're also more aware of each other — where the other is, what they are doing, etc."

"Anyway," Jasmine went on, "we may have an explanation for the extra power behind the rituals, but I'm not sure you're going to like it..." She then explained about the veela beliefs regarding the goddesses and their use of the two Gryffindor witches as "vessels" for more direct participation in the rituals.

By the end, Minerva could barely find words to express how shocked she was. "How certain are the veela about this?" she asked.

Hermione shrugged. "They admit that they don't have any proof. This is simply the best explanation their religious and political leaders could come up with. Some, though, believe strongly. Gabrielle, for example, is absolutely convinced."

"Enough of them are convinced to support moving the rituals around to new sites in the hope of recreating the effects in more places," Jasmine pointed out.

"Maybe, maybe not," Hermione responded. "Some may simply want to see the positive effects spread regardless of the exact reasons."

"I wish I knew whether you two were in any danger because of this," Minerva fretted.

"So far, it's all been positive," Jasmine reminded her. "Right now, there are plenty of other things that are more dangerous to me — like Umbridge, the Minister, the Ministry, Voldemort, Death Eaters..."

"Alright, alright, you've made your point," Minerva said. "Just... be careful. Keep me and Fleur apprised of what's going on with both of you, so if any problems develop we can get you help. Though... if what the veela say is correct, I'm not sure who we could possibly go to."

She sighed deeply, feeling very much out of her depth.

* * *

 **Sunday, November 7, 1995, Evening.**

Apolline Delacour gazed in wonder at the contents of the large crate. "This is amazing!" exclaimed her niece Victoire.

"This is only the first crate," Apolline pointed out.

Victoire looked around the storage room in shock. "You mean these are all... I had no idea! How many are there?"

"Fifty, all told," Apolline answered. "They didn't use space expansion charms so as not to interfere with the natural magic of the items. They only used reinforcement charms on the outside in order to protect the crates themselves."

"And the contents are all the same?" Victoire asked.

"I'm not sure of the specifics," Apolline admitted, "but it's mostly hide, bones, fangs, and teeth. Oh, and some venom. Little of the soft tissue was salvageable."

"This is already worth a fortune," Victoire said. "And then once they are enchanted... you'll destroy the market for such products."

Apolline shook her head. "Unlikely, because I don't expect that a great deal will be sold on the open market. First choice for armor and weapons will go to the Chosen Couple and their coven. They owe a few pieces to whomever taught their elves how to harvest the basilisk parts, too. Much of the rest will probably be purchased by the Theledrion for the Amazzi elite. What's left won't be so much that the market will be affected, but that plus what's sold privately will fetch quite a bit of gold."

"Who's going to do the enchanting?" Victoire asked.

"With this much material to work with?" Apolline asked. "I've been in contact with all of the best houses, and every single one has cleared their schedule for the next several months. We've had to make excuses to the French government about why there would be delays on so many contracts."

Victoire grinned. "I'll bet that went over well."

"At least I didn't have to deal with it," Apolline said. "I'm surprised that some of the enchanters aren't camped out in front of my house waiting already. They all know they are not only getting something unique to enchant, but that the final products will be used by some important people, so they are looking forward to the chance to do some of the best enchanting they have ever performed... that has perhaps _ever_ been performed by the veela."

* * *

 **Monday, November 8, 1995, Afternoon.**

Lufestre Gydenna wasn't surprised to see Hellraiser II stay behind after the main Monday temple rituals were completed. The day before, she'd delivered the reports from Sharpaxe and herself about the Samhain ritual in England and had known that it would only be a matter of time before the queen sought her out to ask questions. Lufestre even had a good idea what some of those questions might be.

The problem was, Lufestre herself had far more questions about Samhain than she did answers.

Without the two of them having to speak a word, she led Hellraiser through the back of the temple, with the queen's personal guard keeping a respectful distance. Once they were alone in the private chambers of the High Priestess, Lufestre prepared some chojo while Hellraiser sat in one of the comfortable chairs. It had been clear to Lufestre since even before the Monday rituals started that the queen was concerned about something, and the queen's demeanor had only gotten worse as the morning wore on.

"What is it, Winny?" she asked, once she was also seated and they both had taken sips of their drinks. It had been a long, long time since she'd last used her queen's childhood nickname — short for Wynmaeg, her title before she become queen — but Lufestre thought it would get her attention and help her to focus on whatever it was that she needed.

The queen sighed. After a long moment, she said, "I was up half the night reading and rereading those reports. If it weren't for the fact that they both agreed completely on the factual details, I'd have thought... well, I'm not sure I'd have believed them."

Lufestre shook her head. "I was there and I still have trouble believing it. But it was real, as are the effects that Sharpaxe reports."

"The amount of magical power that was involved must have been staggering," Hellraiser said. "And it wasn't a one-time thing, either, since it must have been similar at Beltane. It... troubles me."

"Oh?"

"Did you sense any hostility from any of the witches, veela or human?" Hellraiser asked.

Lufestre frowned. Of all the things she thought she'd be asked about, this hadn't been one of them. "No, not at all. And from what Sharpaxe mentioned in passing, I think they were polite and respectful towards him." Hellraiser nodded silently, but when she didn't go on, Lufestre prompted, "Why?"

"It's just... I'm not used to being in a position like this," Hellraiser said heavily. "The amount of power that must have been involved is far beyond anything we can bring to bear. I have little doubt that with power like that, they could easily annihilate the Horde."

Lufestre's eyes widened at that unexpected comment. _What in the name of the Great Goddess did Sharpaxe write?_ she wondered. _Since when did this become a military issue?_

"My Queen," Lufestre said, "do you think... I mean, is that really a concern? Don't we have a treaty with the veela? Have those two witches ever threatened us?"

"You don't understand!" Hellraiser said hotly. "Treaties can be broken — and they are all the time! Friends can turn to enemies at a moment's notice, and the veela aren't even friends right now. They're barely allies! With power like that at their beck and call, how could any hope to stand against them? What if the treaty is merely to lull us into a false sense of security? What if—"

"My Queen, please," Lufestre interrupted, hoping that she wasn't overstepping her bounds too much. "For one thing, I don't think that they have any such power 'at their beck and call,' as you put it. From what we can tell, that power only manifests at particular locations and particular times. I don't think they can call it down on a whim while standing on a street corner... or on a battlefield, for that matter."

Hellraiser opened her mouth for a moment, then closed it again, looking slightly mollified.

"Second," Lufestre continued, "at no point did that power manifest in what appeared to be a destructive form. Perhaps it could — I don't know for sure. Yet even as threatening as it looked, it did no more harm than knock over the witches participating in the ritual — and do note that it knocked _them_ over. None of the goblins there felt anything more than a gentle breeze pass over us. From what we can tell, the impact of this power is all positive and creative, not destructive. Granted, we don't know that that can't change, but right now that isn't a cause for panic."

Hellraiser slumped a bit in her seat, suddenly looking far more tired than she had previously. "Yes, yes, I suppose you're right. It's just... every time I read the reports, I envision that vortex tearing through our Horde like a sword through parchment. We'd have no defense, especially if the power is truly from the goddesses like the veela say. I... I don't want to end up being known as the queen who ruled over the end of the goblin nation."

Lufestre reached out and took hold of her queen's hand. "I don't think that's something you need to fear, at least not right now. As a ruler and politician, it's right that you concern yourself with such scenarios; it's one more reason why I'm glad I never entered politics myself — I don't think I could handle it. But thus far everything we have asked for has been given, and everything we have been shown has been positive, has it not?" When Hellraiser nodded, Lufestre continued, "Then try to focus more on that. Speaking for myself, the power I felt on Samhain was similar to what I felt this morning while performing the rituals. They weren't identical, but they were similar. I think there's cause for optimism here."

Hellraiser smiled wanly, then took another sip of her chojo. After a long silence, she said. "Last night I had a dream. It was strange, because I don't normally remember dreams very well, but this one I remember rather clearly. It was about a goblin named Tigelwyrhte, who was favored by the Great Goddess and... and she did something, but I couldn't tell what. It was important, at any rate, and she kept looking at me, as if she expected something from me."

"Tigelwyrhte was an artisan who earned the favor of the Great Goddess through many trials and rituals," Lufestre said. "She went on to play a significant role in the formation of our temple structure and practices, but only after establishing one of the early goblin kingdoms."

Hellraiser frowned. "That sounds like an important bit of our history. Why don't I remember that?"

"Probably because you always fell asleep during ancient history class, remember?" Lufestre said with a smirk.

Hellraiser rolled her eyes. "As if anyone could stay awake in that class. Well, anyone but you." She poured herself some more chojo, then added. "If you know the story so well, why don't you refresh your queen's memory?"

"Very well," Lufestre responded. "Tigelwyrhte is said to have been an orphan who was raised in dreadful conditions. Despite the abuse she experienced at the hands of her guardians, she persevered in her studies and eventually..."

* * *

 **Monday, November 8, 1995, Evening.**

Dumbledore had been prepared for McGonagall coming to meet with him. He'd even been prepared for her being upset. What he had not been prepared for, however, was her dumping the blasted remains of a horcrux all over his desk.

"This is what's left of whatever it was that exploded and nearly killed you, Albus," she said grimly. "I tried to get the house elves to collect them, but they refused. All but Pappy, that is, and even he only did so reluctantly, so I had to help him. It took a couple of hours, but he's sure that we managed to get everything. Even after the explosion, they fairly reek with dark magic, and I'm not surprised that the elves wouldn't go near them."

After the bits and pieces had been spread across his desk like confetti, she dropped the silk bag that had held them, leaned forward with both hands flat on his desk, and said, "What have you gotten yourself into, Albus? Why are you studying such dark magic, and why did it almost kill you?"

Dumbledore leaned back stiffly and took off his spectacles so he could rub the bridge of his nose. _Perhaps I should tell someone_ , he thought. _If something happens to me, only Sirius even knows of the horcruxes' existence... But no — I'm simply not ready to let anyone else in on some of these things, not even Minerva. The risk is too great._

After a long moment, he finally said, "Perhaps this is something I should tell you about, but the time isn't right for that." He held up a hand to stop her protest before she could say anything. "No, I understand you want to know, but there are some things I'm investigating which I simply cannot chance getting out. Suffice it to say that I'm working on something to stop Voldemort — stop him once and for all."

McGonagall stood up straight again and crossed her arms. "But you will tell me eventually, yes? Sooner rather than later?"

"Eventually, yes, if I can," Dumbledore responded. "Whether sooner or later I cannot say. I'm sorry, but to a certain degree I'm limited by how fast my own investigations go. And yes, I promise I'll be more careful in the future. I thought that the time of likely danger had passed when I received that object, but clearly I know even less than I thought I did. If it makes you feel any better, I expect there will be few chances of this happening again."

"Very well," McGonagall said, though her tone of voice made it clear that she wasn't the least bit placated. "I'll take my leave now because I know you need your rest. Do not think, however, that this conversation is completely done."

Once she was gone, Dumbledore slowly got up from behind his desk and started preparing for bed. He had hoped to track down one of the horcruxes before the holidays, but given how slow his recovery was going, he had to conclude that he wouldn't be able to do it until well afterwards.


	27. You Can't Always Get What You Want

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Harry the Hufflepuff," by BajaB. Sorted into Hufflepuff, Harry Potter works hard at just one thing: finding ways to not have to work hard at anything else. Laziness is taken to an all new level!

* * *

 **Chapter 27 - You Can't Always Get What You Want**

 **Tuesday, November 9, 1995, Late Morning.**

"No! I'm not going to do it!"

"You simply must! A Yule ball is expected of someone of your station!"

"I don't care! I've never cared!"

"And look where that got you!"

"Which is why I'm making changes — but that isn't one of them! I'm focusing on what's important!

"Mingling with other members of the noble families _is_ important!"

"Not to me! What's important is **family**!"

Sirius took a deep breath in preparation for his next retort, and then... had to let it out because his mother didn't say anything. Instead, she simply looked at him curiously, then took a step back and sat down in the chair in her portrait.

"Family?" she asked at a normal volume.

"Yes," Sirius answered. "Family."

"Very well," Walburga said. "A family Yule and Christmas, then?"

"Just family and close friends," Sirius affirmed. "Though since the Order is still using this place as headquarters, I can't exclude the odd member from passing through or kipping on a spare bed. But for the important times, it will be family and close friends."

"Who do you have in mind?" Walburga asked.

"Well, Jasmine of course," Sirius replied, staring off into space as he tried to compose a list. "I figure Andromeda and her family, Ted and Nymphadora."

"What about...?"

"No, not her," Sirius said. "She's not healthy enough yet — and I don't think she'd exactly fit in. But I'll try to stop by and visit her, at least. She doesn't deserve to have no one but Kreature as company during the holidays." Walburga nodded. "Remus, of course," Sirius continued. "I don't know what the Weasleys will be doing, but I expect that at least a couple will stop by."

"And what about Miss Granger?" Walburga asked, one eyebrow arched. "I notice you didn't mention her."

"Oh... well, I, uh, figured that she'd spend the holidays with her parents in France," Sirius said, a bit confused. "Even I probably would, if my family lived in the south of France."

Walburga shook her head slowly with an expression that was almost pitying. "And do you honestly think Jasmine Dorea would stay here for more than five minutes if she knew her... friend was in France?"

Sirius stared at his mother, dumbfounded. "You think Jasmine would pick Hermione over me?"

"I think you should be smart enough to not put her in a position where she'd be forced to choose," Walburga said. "And you can easily avoid that by simply inviting the young witch to spend the holidays here."

"But... her family?" Sirius protested.

"Yes, you'll need to invite them here as well," Walburga said in a tone that said her patience was wearing thin.

Sirius kept staring at her, more confused than ever. "But... but... they're muggles! You hate muggles!"

"Yes?" she asked.

"Now you're suggesting that I invite them to spend the holidays with us?" Sirius asked incredulously. "Who are you? And what have you done with my evil mother?"

Walburga rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm the evil witch — so you've told me. I have no great desire to see muggles wandering through our noble halls—"

"Now that's more like it," Sirius muttered.

"—but I have to accept that Jasmine Dorea won't want to stay here without her friend, and unfortunately having Miss Granger stay means bringing in her parents as well. I may not be happy about that, but I am pragmatic enough to accept it."

Sirius continued to stare at her, though looking a lot less confused. "Fine, that makes sense. In fact, I could make it a surprise for Hermione — I won't tell her anything, I'll invite her parents and have them waiting for her when she arrives. It will be like an early Christmas present for her."

"I'm glad to see that you'll have fun with it," Walburga said. "However, that doesn't let you off the hook for having some sort of society gala." Sirius frowned, but she pushed on. "Now that you've been cleared of all criminal charges, you need to start renewing the family's social and political connections. You'll also probably need to make a lot of new ones, too. You need to do this for yourself, for the family, and most especially for Jasmine Dorea."

Sirius sagged a bit in his seat. "Do you think she wants something like that?"

"If she's anything like you, I'm sure she'll hate it," Walburga admitted. "But liking it and needing it are two entirely different things. It would be better if the two of you could enjoy it at least a little bit, but if you can't then you'll simply have to learn how to deal with it.

The sound of someone clearing his throat caused both of them to look to the side where Phineas was watching them. "I'm sorry to interrupt," he said, "but if I remember correctly, when you discussed the idea of adoption, she seemed interested in the political advantages. Not happy about them as such, but interested in using them."

"That's a good point," Walburga responded before turning back to Sirius. "If she is interested in using the political power of the Black family, she will need social events like that even more. From what you've told me about her life, she's needed political protection and support for years now, but hasn't had either. You may be able to provide her with a loving home, but what about the rest?"

"Alright, alright," Sirius groaned, throwing up his hands in surrender. "I know when I'm beat. I'll start thinking about something for... spring? No, she and her classmates have OWLs this year. Something during the summer."

Walburga nodded. "That's a good idea, but make sure the invitations are sent out in the spring. People will need time to plan, dresses need to be designed, that sort of thing."

"Fine," Sirius said. "It all sounds perfectly horrid. Now let's get on with the reason I came here to begin with. Is there any news... well, anywhere? Anything important?"

"Dumbledore is back working in his office," Phineas reported, "but he hasn't fully recovered yet. He's moving around slowly and he tires easily."

"Still no idea of what exploded?" Sirius asked.

Phineas shook his head. "I couldn't see in the box, and he threw it too quickly. Something with precious gems, I think, but beyond that I can't say." Sirius and Walburga shared a look, both knowing what the object probably was and unhappy that Dumbledore hadn't deigned to let Sirius know.

"What about the Ministry?" Sirius prompted.

"From what we can tell," Corvus replied, "the Minister's offices are in an uproar. He's furious that you were declared innocent and even more furious that he can't do anything about it. Despite the fact that it's a public relations disaster, though, he refuses to change course."

"Wanker."

"Indeed," Hydrus said, ignoring Sirius' choice of language. "What I've heard suggests that, if anything, he's going to push harder. With you free, Jasmine Dorea appears to him to be an even greater threat."

"So since he can't do anything to me," Sirius said, "he's going to go even harder after her?" The portraits that kept a watch on the Ministry all nodded. "Then I'm going to have to warn her," Sirius concluded. "I should probably let Dumbledore know, too, so he can keep a closer eye on Umbridge."

"While you're at it, you should add that something is definitely being planned for a site of major importance," Walburga said.

"By the Ministry?" Sirius asked.

"No, by _him_ ," Walburga answered. "We have no idea what, at least not yet, but he's starting to get impatient at the lack of progress."

Sirius nodded. "It's not much, but I think I'll let both Jasmine and Dumbledore know."

"The Headmaster doesn't know about our new intelligence source, does he?" Walburga asked.

"No, and I don't intend to tell him," Sirius said. "Now that I'm free, I'll let him think that I've reactivated some of the old Black family connections. Or maybe that I'm using people who owe my family some favors."

Walburga smiled, pleased to see what she regarded as improvements in her son.

* * *

 **Thursday, November 11, 1995, Late Morning.**

Everyone in the corridor jumped, even the Slytherins, when the door to the Potions lab slammed open. "Well, what are you all doing waiting out here, gawking like a group of inbred trolls? Get in!" shouted Professor Snape.

"Someone got up on the wrong side of bed this morning," Jasmine muttered.

"I'm not sure he went to bed," Hermione whispered back. "He doesn't look like he's gotten much sleep lately."

"Then I wonder where he's been the past few days?" Jasmine said softly. "Playing with He-Who-Has-No-Balls?"

"Everyone, quiet!" Snape bellowed, preventing Hermione from chastising Jasmine for her language choice. "Today you will be brewing a basic Restorative Draught. This potion—" Snape was cut off by the sound of the door opening, and Jasmine thought he looked as though he was ready to kill whoever dared disturb his class; when his face abruptly went expressionless, however, she twisted her head around to see who had entered the room.

It was Umbridge, and she didn't look too happy.

"As I was saying," Snape continued, "you will be brewing a Restorative Draught. The directions are up here on the board. Begin!"

Jasmine and Hermione started gathering ingredients while Snape stalked around the lab. The expected scratching of Umbridge's quill did not come from the back of the room, making several students increasingly nervous. Eventually Snape must have made his way to the back — Jasmine didn't dare look — because she heard Umbridge asking him about where he'd been for the past week. Jasmine couldn't quite make out whatever his answer was, so she began leaning farther away from her table as she tried to prepare her potion ingredients while simultaneously listening in on what Snape and Umbridge were saying.

In her distraction, she sliced the fried flobberworm mucus much too coarsely, so when she added it to her potion a few minutes later, the result was a noxious cloud of purple smoke that started to fill the lab.

"Idiot girl! What do you think you're doing!" Snape shouted as he stormed away from Umbridge and, with a wave of his wand, first vanished the cloud of smoke then vanished her potion for good measure. He looked down at her station and picked up some of the fried mucus. "Look at this — you didn't slice this nearly fine enough! Are you trying to kill everyone in the room?"

"Hem, hem. Did I hear you correctly? Did Miss Potter try to kill us and the rest of the class? I think that perhaps I should contact the aurors..."

"No, that's not necessary," Snape said in a strangled voice. "It was just... an expression of frustration. Potter is a poor potions student, and as usual, she has completely failed to perform at even a substandard level."

"I'm not so sure," Umbridge countered. "I feel threatened when I'm in class with her. If she can do something like this when she's in class, who knows what she gets up to when she's not being monitored by the staff. She's clearly a danger—"

"The only danger she represents is through her own incompetence," insisted Snape. For her part, Jasmine was horrified that she was being defended by being called incompetent — and by Snape, no less. It was only Hermione's firm hold on her arm that kept her from leaping into the fray.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for your lack of attention, Potter," Snape said. "And given how there's no time now to start over, you will also receive no marks for today's lesson."

"Points?" Umbridge asked, sounding horrified. "She tries to murder us all, and the best you can do is take away points? I say we expel her and take her to the Ministry!"

"As the professor in charge, it is my determination that that is the appropriate punishment for her actions," Snape ground out. "Only the Headmaster can alter that determination, whether to decrease it or increase it."

Umbridge huffed in outrage, and Jasmine was certain that she actually stamped one of her feet before turning and marching out of the class. Jasmine turned and looked up into the black, angry eyes of Snape. "Uh, thanks? I guess?" Without another word, Snape spun on his heel and stalked to his desk with his robe billowing dramatically behind him.

* * *

 **Friday, November 12, 1995, Morning.**

When the students began arriving for breakfast, few were surprised to see yet another Educational Decree being attached to the wall outside the Great Hall. What was remarkable, however, was how sweeping Decree Number Twenty-Five turned out to be:

"The Chief Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions and removals of privileges as may have been placed by other staff members."

"There you are!" came a triumphant voice, and Jasmine felt a hand grab her by the shoulder. As she was spun around, she found herself face-to-face with the Chief Inquisitor. With an expression that was far too gleeful for Jasmine's comfort, Umbridge said, "Now you'll be properly punished for your actions yesterday, you jumped-up little halfblood! I don't know why the professors here insist on protecting you, but it stops now. Give me your wand, because you're being expelled—"

"I'm sorry, Madam Umbridge, but you won't be taking any wands today," came the headmaster's tired voice. Both Gabrielle and Hermione had surreptitiously drawn their own wands and moved to either side of Jasmine, but the arrival of the old man caused them to relax slightly.

"Don't interfere, Dumbledore," Umbridge snarled. "My latest Educational Decree gives me the authority to modify punishments, and that's exactly what I'm doing!"

"Ah, but you're unaware of a few critical details," Dumbledore said patiently. "First, no one, not even I, can modify punishments after they have already been served, as in the case of detentions or suspensions; or after a day has passed, as in the case of points taken, except when it's discovered that a student has been punished unjustly. This is part of the Hogwarts Charter and can only be changed by amending the Charter, not by any Ministry-issued decrees. This provision was included in the Charter so students would know that they wouldn't keep being punished over and over for the same thing: once punishment is served, everyone moves on."

Umbridge's face turned a shade of purple that Jasmine had previously only ever seen on Uncle Vernon, but Dumbledore wasn't finished. "Second," he continued, "the authority to suspend or expel students while they are in Hogwarts is limited to the headmaster and that, too, is specified by the Hogwarts Charter. No decree you or Cornelius try to issue can change that, so even if you thought you could punish Miss Potter further, you could only do so with points and detentions."

"You haven't heard the last of this, Dumbledore," she hissed before she stomped off through the crowd.

"Indeed, I'm sure I haven't," he replied softly. He looked down at Jasmine and said, "I'm guessing that neither of us is entirely surprised by this latest move, yes?"

Jasmine nodded. "I received the same warning that you must have."

Dumbledore sighed. "This was simply the Ministry's opening move. I fear we will have much more to endure before the end."

"Are you feeling alright, Headmaster?" Jasmine asked, surprised to be feeling concern for someone she'd been so angry with for so long.

He gave her a kindly smile. "I must confess that I've felt much better than I do right now, but I do see daily improvement, so I shan't complain too much. Good day, Miss Potter, Miss Granger."

* * *

 **Friday, November 12, 1995, Late Morning.**

"This... this is amazing," Jasmine said as she read over the report which Fleur had given her and Hermione after keeping them back after Defense class.

"And this is only a preliminary report, isn't it?" Hermione asked. "They expect to find more as time goes on and other effects have a chance to appear?"

Fleur nodded. "I believe so. No one has told me zis, but in retrospect zat is what happened with ze forest here — despite having found quite dramatic changes soon after Beltane, more was found later as well. It would surprise me if ze same were not ze case with ze site of ze Samhain ritual."

"This is all good, right?" Jasmine asked. "I mean, everything described here looks good, but it isn't causing harm or anything, is it?"

Fleur considered that. "I think zat it is all good. Both magical and non-magical plants and animals are all benefiting greatly, zough ze magical side is naturally benefiting more. I suppose ze only potential problem is zat ze growth of magical plants and animals will lead to more contact with non-magicals. If ze goal is absolute secrecy, zis may put it at risk."

"But..." Hermione started to say, then she fell silent as she thought about it. "If larger, healthier populations of magical plants and animals increase the risk of violating strict separation, then that means that maintaining secrecy requires smaller, weaker populations. As muggle populations grow, and as muggle technology improves, that would require the magical populations to get even smaller and weaker over time."

Fleur nodded slowly. "Yes, I guess zat is true. I never thought about it zat way, but it makes sense."

"So while violating strict separation and secrecy may be a bad thing," Jasmine concluded, "trying to maintain them might cause more harm in the long run?"

"It might _kill_ us in the long run," Hermione corrected her. "Even if the destruction of various magical plant and animal species weren't a crime in its own right, how much would we lose from no longer having them for familiars, potions, artifacts, and so forth?"

"Wow," Jasmine said. "Do you know if anyone is monitoring muggle news for reports of strange events, Fleur?" When their professor shook her head, Jasmine continued, "Maybe you should mention that. Even if expanding the populations of magical creatures is necessary, it would be a good idea to know what the muggles are noticing, if anything. It may be possible to do something to minimize any damage." Fleur immediately began writing a note to her mother.

"I was originally going to ask you if she thought these rituals were a part of fulfilling the prophecy, Fleur," Hermione said, "but now I'm thinking that they are important regardless."

"And zat is precisely ze way you should be thinking," Fleur pointed out. "Remember, I told you not to get caught up in focusing on acts you zink you need to do for ze prophecy. In principle, _anything_ you do might tie into ze prophecy. You must be mindful of ze prophecy and of doing zings to further it, but you must also do what you think is right generally."

"Well, I'd say doing these rituals in more locations is right," Hermione said. "Where will the next one be?"

"I do not know yet," Fleur responded. "It would be best to spread zem around so zat the benefits do not overlap too much."

"And then what?" Jasmine asked. "What's the plan for when we've covered all of Britain? Shall we move on to someplace new, like Ireland? Or maybe France?"

"You would wish to begin performing ze rituals outside of Britain?" Fleur asked curiously.

"Of course," Hermione replied. "Why wouldn't we?"

Fleur smiled. "I will inform my maman, and she will research options."

* * *

 **Saturday, November 13, 1995, Afternoon.**

Hermione felt Jasmine shiver next to her as they climbed the steps to the seventh floor. Jasmine had been soaked to the bone trying to find the snitch during the Quidditch match that day, and Hermione didn't think that their 410-130 victory had been worth flying for more than two hours in the cold November rain — not even when the victory had been over Slytherin.

Jasmine had needed to stand under the warm shower for more than half an hour to thaw, only to get cold and wet again on the way back from the Quidditch pitch. Not even the warming and drying charms they'd cast on each other seemed to help. _What good is having more magical power if we can't use it to keep warm and dry?_ she fumed.

"I can tell you're unhappy," Jasmine said suddenly. "I know you don't like the sorts of things I do during a Quidditch game."

"Was I that obvious?" Hermione asked.

"To me, yes," Jasmine replied. "You always have been. But it's been more obvious today. Well, for the past month or so, I guess, if I include our recent practices; but today your body language has jst been _screaming_ unhappiness."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "It's tough to watch you even on a nice day, but seeing you fly in the cold rain today brought back memories of third year and you nearly falling to your death when the Dementors came on the pitch. I was more scared for you then than at almost any other time, I think. At least the other times you've been in danger, you were conscious and able to fight."

Jasmine's eyes widened as she looked at her girlfriend. "Oh! Sorry, I never even thought about that. I—"

A loud noise behind them interrupted Jasmine and they both looked, but it was only a couple of younger students running through the corridor. Hermione knew that she didn't have any reason to worry. Gabrielle, their invisible shadow, was somewhere nearby. Ever since the incident in the Great Hall with the Minister, she'd been spending nearly all of her free time close to the two of them, even including following Hermione during her prefect patrols.

Hermione had been especially happy knowing that Gabrielle was close during the game because more than once she saw Umbridge in the stands, glaring either at her or out towards the pitch and presumably at Jasmine.

The roar of the victory party assaulted their ears as soon as the Fat Lady's painting swung open. The raucous gathering was hardly a surprise — Gryffindors always celebrated loudly when they won over Slytherin. The fact that many were still chanting "Weasley is our King" wasn't a surprise either, because Ron had stepped up and done a great job in his first game as Keeper, despite the taunting from the Slytherins. The only person who didn't seem to be celebrating was Cormac McLaggen, who was sulking alone in a corner.

What was a surprise, and what caused them both to freeze in shock a few feet past the portrait hole, was the sight of Lavender Brown sitting on Ron's lap in the middle of the common room, apparently trying to remove his appendix through his mouth.

"Ew!" Jasmine whispered. "You don't think we look...?"

"Sweet Morgana, I hope not," Hermione replied fervently.

After a long moment just staring, Jasmine finally said, "This is gonna kill Luna."

"I don't think so," Neville said from behind them, making them both jump in fright. "She hasn't tried to make a move on him so far, and she told me that she didn't think he was mature enough yet for a serious relationship. She'll be disappointed, I'm sure, but I don't think she'll be surprised that someone else has caught his eye like this."

"Eye?" Jasmine asked. "Tonsils would be more accurate."

"Please, stop," Neville complained with a grimace. "I've been trying to avoid looking too closely, and I don't need that image running around in my brain. I'm afraid I'll start having nightmares as it is."

Hermione shook her head. She wanted to be mad at Lavender, but Luna hadn't staked any claim on Ron, so Lavender wasn't doing anything wrong. Besides, she and Jasmine had grown much closer to Parvati and Lavender over the past term. The two gossipy witches had not only been active in the Gryffindor defense practices, but they had stepped up and were helping others who weren't doing as well, thus taking some of the burden from her, Jasmine, Ginny, and Neville. It probably helped that Padma had been giving them extra tutoring.

Parvati's and Lavender's progress in both defense and leadership had been as impressive as Ron's performance as Keeper that day, so Hermione couldn't begrudge them their desire to relax and celebrate.

 _If only I could be sure that Jasmine and I don't look like that_... she thought with a shiver.

* * *

 **Sunday, November 14, 1995, Afternoon.**

"Congratulations on your victory," Minerva said as she handed Jasmine the teapot. "If you and the rest of the team continue to play like that, there's no doubt that the Quidditch Cup will be in my office again at the end of the year."

"Thank you," Jasmine said as she poured tea for herself and Hermione.

"Is Hagrid back?" Hermione asked. "Lights were on in his cabin when we were returning from the Quidditch pitch, but he didn't answer when we knocked."

"He is indeed back," Minerva responded, "but he is still recovering from a long trip. He should be back to teaching classes some time this coming week... or perhaps next, at the latest."

"Good, maybe we'll get a chance to see him soon," Jasmine said.

"I've finally finished making the discrete inquiries about that matter you asked me to look into back on your birthday, Miss Potter," Minerva said, "and I'm pleased to report that you have nothing to fear."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, sounding relieved. "It's been two months — it's been hard not to worry."

"Yes, I'm sorry it took so long, but I don't see the relevant people often, and I needed to phrase my questions as carefully as possible," Minerva explained. "The situation with Miss Tonks is simplest. Your parents mentioned that you had a boyfriend whom they knew nothing about, and Tonks decided to tease you about it. Apparently her use of quotes around 'mysterious boyfriend' was simply her quoting your parents, not an attempt to communicate that she knew there was no boyfriend."

"That's a relief," Hermione said. "I wrote to my parents last term telling them that I had started dating someone and asking them for some advice. I didn't mention a gender, and they simply assumed it was a boy. I... well, I didn't want to lie to them directly, so I've tried to avoid the topic as much as possible."

Minerva nodded in understanding. "The situation with Mr. Weasley is a bit more complicated, but then again it often is with him when it comes to muggle items. According to him, he and your parents talked about their jobs and the issue of stress came up. They described various muggle ways of relieving stress, and one of them was getting massages to relax the muscles. The idea fascinated and stuck with him. Well, when he led the team to pack up your parents' house, he gathered up their mail. Included in there was a brightly-colored flyer for a business that offered massage classes — a business that was offering your parents a discount because they were already customers. Arthur decided that since they recommended massages so highly and had taken many classes from this business, it would be a great gift for you."

"And he has no idea what 'Kama Sutra Partners Massage' would be?" Hermione asked.

"Arthur doesn't have a clue," Minerva assured her. "Though with seven children, I'm quite sure he doesn't need the help."

Hermione and Jasmine both nearly spit out their tea when they heard that.

* * *

 **Sunday, November 14, 1995, Evening.**

"Pureed rat brains?" Dumbledore asked, his mouth gaping open slightly in disbelief.

Snape nodded tiredly, still not yet caught up on either his lost sleep or his missed work.

"That... seems rather hard to believe," Dumbledore said slowly. "Not that I'm doubting your skills, Severus, but..."

Snape held up one hand to forestall any apologies. "It's quite alright, Headmaster. I find it difficult to believe as well. In truth, the use of an enhanced version of rat tonic was more a matter of grasping at straws, not due to any sincere belief on my part that I'd hit upon a miraculous solution." He paused for a moment, then sighed. "Maybe it's merely a coincidence, I don't know, but he's been doing well so far."

"If his health issues are truly past, then his attention will turn even more towards other matters," Dumbledore concluded. "Including whatever task he has set for young Mr. Nott. I take it that you have yet to get any more information out of him?"

Snape shook his head. "He remains as recalcitrant as ever. All I've been able to get from him was from that one successful attempt at Legilimency."

"That he means to kill someone," Dumbledore said. "But we don't know who."

"You know my opinions on that."

"I do, Severus, and I continue to disagree. Voldemort will want to kill Miss Potter personally. No, someone else has been picked as Mr. Nott's target. Most likely me."

"As if he stood any chance of such a task," Snape said with a snort.

"Indeed, but others have already probably been injured in his attempts, and we cannot assume that something similar will not happen again."

* * *

 **Monday, November 15, 1995, Morning.**

The Great Hall was in a near state of riot when Jasmine and Hermione entered, and the reason wasn't too hard to discern. Hanging outside on the wall was Educational Decree Number Forty-Nine: "All Quidditch matches are henceforth cancelled. All privately owned broomsticks must be handed over to the Chief Inquisitor for safe keeping." Both girls were certain that Umbridge had created it to get at Jasmine and out of spite for the fact that she and the Gryffindor team had played such a good game on Saturday.

Judging by the looks they received from more than a few people, especially members of the study group, others had reached the same conclusion. Fortunately, though, none of the anger in the Great Hall was directed at them — not even from the Slytherins, who looked as furious as everyone else. "I don't know why she thought she could interfere with Quidditch," Hermione said as they sat down. "I mean, I may not enjoy the game much, but even I can recognize that most of wizarding Britain is mad for Quidditch."

"Can you imagine what would happen if some government fop tried to ban footy in muggle schools?" Dean Thomas asked. "It would bring down the government!"

"Somehow I don't think we'll be that lucky," Jasmine said as she started filling her dish with breakfast.

" **Silence!** " came Dumbledore's voice from the head table.

"He's still not looking good," Hermione whispered to Jasmine, who nodded.

"I know you are all quite upset," Dumbledore continued, "and I sympathize with your frustration. It's been quite a long time since I was sitting where you are now, but even I can remember how eager I was for the next game." There were more than a few chuckles spread through the crowd. "However, there is nothing that I as headmaster can do right now. I do not have the authority to countermand any Educational Decrees from the _Ministry_ , so complaints made to either me or any of the rest of the staff are... aimed in the wrong direction."

As Jasmine looked around the Great Hall, she noticed that a few students seemed to understand the hidden meaning of Dumbledore's words. One by one, they shared their conclusions with others. The students' anger did not lessen, but it now had a new target.

As breakfast came to a conclusion, Jasmine noticed a sad expression on Luna's face, so she moved to sit next to the younger Ravenclaw. "I'm sorry you have to see that," she said softly, gesturing in the direction of Ron and Lavender. "I'd have warned you if I'd had a way of doing so."

"Oh, that's alright," Luna said a bit dreamily. "I'm not bothered by that." When Jasmine gave her a disbelieving look, she amended, "Well, not much. I'm not surprised — it was bound to happen sooner or later. Maybe it will be good for him. No, it's that the _Quibbler_ should have arrived today. None of the subscribers here in the school seem to have gotten a copy."

"Oh, that's right — today is the day it comes out," Jasmine responded. "I completely forgot, what with the new decree. Maybe it was delayed?"

Luna shook her head. "I doubt it. In all the years Daddy has been publishing the _Quibbler_ , he's always gotten it out on time. It's a point of pride for him."

"Then it sounds like someone has probably interfered with their delivery," Hermione said, now sitting on the other side of Luna. "It was only a matter of time."

"Then we need to find some way of smuggling it into the school," Jasmine said. "Dobby and Winky?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't want us to become completely dependent on them. Besides, I have a better idea: the twins. This sort of thing is right up their alley, and they could benefit from earning the money."

"Well, can we at least ask one of the elves to smuggle my broom out of school?" Jasmine asked.

Hermione thought for a moment. "OK, that will work, but we'll need to do something so she doesn't think you still have it. Maybe the twins will have an idea for that as well."

Jasmine smiled as Hermione motioned for the Weasley twins to come over, looking forward to what suggestions they might have.

* * *

 **Monday, November 15, 1995, Evening.**

Dolores Umbridge seethed as she sat in her office. Ever since Halloween, it seemed that everything had been going wrong for her. First she was injured in a suspicious accident — the Headmaster claimed to have saved her, but she was sure that he was responsible for the explosion and only claimed to have put himself in harm's way in order to improve his reputation. Then she lost several days as she lay unconscious in the hospital wing.

Finally and worst of all, Cornelius had been treating her differently ever since she had returned to her duties. _He keeps acting like_ _ **I've**_ _done something wrong_ , she fumed. _Like I am responsible for his problems, even though I'm here in Hogwarts and he's the one taking care of business in the Ministry! Things would probably be better if I were there to keep an eye on him, but I can't do both jobs at once!_

The exoneration of Black was a political nightmare that would have caused any lesser Minister to be ousted from office, yet Cornelius was hanging on, and she was sure he'd stay. _We only need a little more time to expose Potter and Dumbledore for the insurrectionists that they really are. Once the public knows the truth, they'll forget about Cornelius' little problems and instead thank him for protecting the Ministry and our way of life._

That assumed, though, that she was able to even keep her current position. She'd only just finished listening to Cornelius berate her for her decision to stop Quidditch at Hogwarts. Apparently he'd been getting complaints all day from all over Britain. _Doesn't he realize that stopping Potter is more important than some silly game?_ _If he's going to accept the responsibility of being Minister, then he needs to be able to deal with complaints like that. It's not as if school games are important — people will get over it quickly enough._

She certainly wasn't going to reimburse that Potter brat for the destruction of her broom. _It wasn't my fault that it blew up after I took it from her! Probably shoddy quality anyway. If anything, Potter should have to reimburse_ _ **me**_ _for how my favorite pink cardigan was ruined!_

There was also no way that she was going to rescind her decision about Quidditch matches — that would be a sign of weakness, and appearing weak was the last thing that the Ministry could afford. _No, I need to appear strong in the face of adversity. I need them to realize that I won't bend or break. That means I need to keep up the pressure — they wouldn't be attacking Cornelius over this if I weren't getting close to finding out the truth, after all. They'll all soon regret the day they tried to challenge me!_

* * *

The old veela witch sat for a long time reading over the letter she'd gotten earlier that day. It was the first letter she'd received in quite some time — as the oldest living veela and one of the revered elders of her people, most tended to leave her alone out of respect. She liked the privacy and ability to work on her research in peace, and as old as she was, she was far more able to get by without the constant physical contact that the younger generations needed (though, truth to tell, sometimes she missed the company and contact with others).

So the letter was a welcome surprise, at least at first, but it quickly became a cause for great concern. _A horcrux!_ she thought, appalled. _It's been a century or more since I've read anything even remotely related to such vile magic — and it's a good thing, too! But now the goblins think they stumbled across one, and since it might relate to a witch of mutual interest with the veela, they forwarded along the information as per the treaty requirements._

It had taken more than a month for the information to reach her, but as the foremost expert on soul magics among the veela, it was inevitable that they would seek out her opinions on the matter. _It's a pity that they weren't able to capture it intact — it might have been useful_ , she lamented as she thought about the situation. _It's very, very curious that it exploded, though. If it weren't for all this information about the tests they ran, I'd simply dismiss the claim that they had a horcrux there — horcruxes don't simply explode! But it appears that this one did, which means that something truly unprecedented has happened._

With a spring in her step, she went to one of her least-used bookcases to begin reviewing the subject. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd had something so new and unusual come to her attention, and she was eager to get to work on it.


	28. Season of the Witch

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** : This chapter's recommended fic is "Season of Change" by Branchwraith. Harry Potter assumed that he had been born male — after all, he'd been male for as long as he could remember. During the summer after his fifth year, however, he discovers that things aren't so cut and dried after all.

 **Trigger Warning:** There is an instance of sexual assault appearing late in the chapter. The scene cuts off before any actual violence occurs, but some may find the lead-up to be psychologically disturbing.

* * *

 **Chapter 28 - Season of the Witch**

 **Tuesday, November 16, 1995, Evening.**

After defense practice — which in the wake of the October attack on Hogsmeade was increasingly becoming a combat practice — the Slytherin members of the study group held everyone back to discuss Theodore Nott. "We still haven't been able to figure out what he's up to," Daphne said, "but whatever it is, it can't be good."

"He started out the term as arrogant as Malfoy," Tracey said, "but not long into September he started acting more and more withdrawn. Worried. Nervous. He almost never volunteers in class anymore, and his classwork is barely adequate."

"He's constantly absent from the common room," Daphne said. "but we haven't been able to track him to wherever he's going. And he only rarely takes Crabbe or Goyle with him, so we can't use those two."

"I don't think he sleeps much," Blaise added. "We've never been friends, and he's never confided in me, but... well, living in the same dorm with a person for several years gives you insights, if you know what to watch for."

"And you still haven't been able to see if he has a Dark Mark?" Ginny asked. Blaise simply shook his head.

"Snape has to know, surely?" Hermione said. "If Nott is doing worse in his classes, Snape must know that, at least. Do you know if he's said or done anything about it?"

"We've been able to spot a couple of conversations," Daphne answered. "Snape never looks angry, like you might expect. If anything, it's Nott who looks angry. He's usually... stiff, unresponsive. Like he doesn't want to deal with whatever it is Snape is telling him. When it's over, Nott walks away while Snape looks disturbed."

"Well, that can't be good," Jasmine muttered.

"No, it can't," Neville agreed. "Thanks for letting us know. Anything else to report?" The others all shook their heads. "I guess we'll have to keep our eyes open. Let us know if anything changes with Nott. Whatever he's doing, I think we can be pretty sure that it isn't good for the school or for us."

* * *

 **Thursday, November 18, 1995. Morning.**

"What's the point of this?" Jasmine asked Hermione.

"The point of what?" Neville said as he walked up behind them.

"It's Educational Decree Number Forty-Eight," Hermione answered, pointing at the new parchment being displayed outside the Great Hall. "Any complaints about Hogwarts or its staff must be made in writing to the Chief Inquisitor."

"I guess that shouldn't be a surprise," Ginny pointed out. "I mean, she'd want complaints about her to go right to her, making it easy to ignore them. And she's supposed to be 'inspecting' the staff, so of course she'd want to see those complaints. The question is, why now?"

"Has anything changed recently?" Neville asked.

"Quidditch!" Jasmine exclaimed. When they others looked at her in confusion, she continued, "Remember, she banned all Quidditch games last week — and as a result, all broom flying, too. Everyone was furious! I'll bet loads of students wrote home to their parents, and I'll bet loads of parents gave the Ministry an earful!"

"So this new decree makes it a violation of the rules to complain to your parents about something Umbridge or any other teacher does?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "How can that stupid woman possibly think that it's wrong for a student to complain to their own parents?"

"Be careful what you say," Ginny added. "In theory, even complaining to each other like this might qualify as a violation of the new rule."

"Yeah, don't give her an excuse," Neville agreed.

* * *

 **Friday, November 19, 1995, Evening.**

Hermione, Jasmine, Ginny, Neville, and Ron were all startled from their essay-writing when the twins abruptly dropped into the spare seats at their table in the Gryffindor common room. "We come bearing gifts!" said one twin cheerily.

"A box full of gifts!" said the other as he set a box on the table in front of the younger students.

"You two aren't Greek by any chance?" Hermione asked warily.

"You wound us!" said the second twin.

"I'm surprised that you're so distrustful," said the first.

"I'm surprised you understood that reference," Jasmine said.

"Now you really wound us," one said with a bit of a pout.

"Unlike some Weasleys," said the other, eyeing Ron without even trying to be subtle, "we read things that aren't required in our classes."

"Oi!" Ron objected.

"Enough," Hermione cut in. "What's in here?"

"You're only getting what you asked for."

"Not filling me with confidence, here," Hermione responded dryly.

"Fine, then," the second twin said with a huff as he opened the box and revealed a stack of the most recent issue of _The Quibbler_. It head a caricature of Umbridge proudly displayed on the cover, showing her morphing back and forth between human and toad. Underneath was the headline:

 **STUDENTS TAKING UMBRAGE WITH MINISTRY TYRANNY!**

"You did it!" Jasmine exclaimed.

"How did you manage it so quickly?" Neville asked as he reached out and took the top issue, never noticing as his hair slowly started turning green.

"Ask us no questions," the first twin said as they stood up.

"And we'll tell you no lies," the second finished as they walked away.

"Pfft," Ginny exclaimed, eying Neville's hair as it shifted from green to purple. "Like that would ever stop them from misleading us." With a quick wave of her wand she dispelled the jinx that had been put on Neville while Hermione cast several detection charms on the rest before handing them out to the Gryffindor subscribers. "I'll make sure that Luna gets the rest tomorrow," Ginny added. "She knows who all the other subscribers are and will ensure that the right people get them."

Neville immediately started reading a background piece by Luna on the history of toad demons and their mating habits, but Hermione and Jasmine focused on the articles which they had helped write — all under pseudonyms, of course. The first, "Ministry Oppression at Hogwarts," they'd written together with Luna about all the things Umbridge had been doing to students in the name of enforcing loyalty to the Ministry.

The second, "Witches and Magic," had been written with the help of Fleur and explained some of the more interesting aspects of feminine magic. The focus was mostly on the sort of magic used in rituals, but without mentioning rituals specifically, given how the Ministry frowned on them. Hermione had originally wanted to use Pureheart's book to write something more radical, but Jasmine had successfully argued that it was better to start discreetly. After all, they couldn't be sure that Mr. Lovegood would accept even a moderate article, but if he did and if it went over well, then they could push the boundaries bit by bit in future installments.

It had been tough for Hermione to not charge forward, but in the end they had crafted an article that Mr. Lovegood had been thrilled to receive. Unbeknownst to them, his wife had been a strong proponent of witches learning and practicing feminine magic, so he not only accepted the article, but encouraged the two Gryffindors to teach what they knew to Luna. It wasn't something Mr. Lovegood himself understood well enough to teach, and his wife had died before she could impart much to their daughter, which compounded his regrets.

Unfortunately, it was right after that letter that Umbridge's censorship came into full effect, and they hadn't heard anything since. If no other alternatives presented themselves soon, they agreed that they'd have Dobby and Winky carry letters for Mr. Lovegood when they next made a trip to Sirius.

* * *

 **Saturday, November 20, 1995, Afternoon.**

Hermione and Jasmine were getting steadily better under Professor McGonagall's advanced tutelage, though they had to do it in the Transfiguration classroom rather than the hidden training canyon in order to avoid Umbridge noticing their absence. They had gotten to the point where they could transfigure a stone into a single lion — not a great lion, but a decent one. It wouldn't win them full marks on an exam, but when properly charmed, its victims would hardly be in a position to complain that it looked a little... _off_.

Still, that didn't mean that McGonagall was satisfied. One reason was simply because behavioral charms worked better on a more true-to-life target. More importantly, though, she wouldn't accept her two best and most favorite students falling short of "Outstanding."

They could also do a mass transfiguration on a pile of pebbles, turning them into a group of realistic beetles. It wasn't nearly as impressive as turning them into a pride of lions, but it was still a lot more difficult than transfiguring a single pebble into a single beetle. Fortunately, there were times when such a skill had its uses.

"Tell me why you might want to transfigure debris into something small rather than something large," McGonagall quizzed them.

"It's faster and easier," Hermione answered. "The compulsions are simpler, too."

"But what use is it?" their professor pressed.

"Stinging insects can at least be annoying and distracting," Jasmine said. "If there are enough of them, they can cause a real problem. And they might be able to target someone you can't see, assuming you can apply the right sorts of charms."

"Exactly," McGonagall said. "A dozen lions can cause a lot of damage to your enemy, but they are also easy for your enemy to target. A cloud of bees, however, can be transfigured much more quickly, can distract several enemies at once, and require something like a fire spell to stop. Even then, it will be difficult to hit enough of the bees to eliminate the distraction entirely."

"And if you're lucky, they might hit each other," Jasmine said with a smirk.

"Indeed," McGonagall responded. "Fire spells can be as dangerous to you and your allies as they are to the enemy." She gave her student a pointed look, all too aware of how much Jasmine favored exactly that sort of spell.

"What other sorts of animals are good to use for transfiguration?" Hermione asked.

"There are several large mammals that are good for attack," McGonagall replied. "Any of the big cats will work well as individuals. Canines like wolves will work together. I'd stay away from anything too large, like a bear, because it will take too much effort to create even a couple of them. Stinging insects will distract and harass. Snakes may avoid notice due to their size, but the venom of transfigured animals isn't as strong as that of real ones and almost certainly isn't deadly." She turned towards Jasmine as she concluded, "You're better off summoning snakes if you want to use your... unique skills to command them." Jasmine nodded and looked thoughtful.

"Not every situation calls for an attack, though," McGonagall went on. "Transfigured dogs can be left behind to give warning of anyone sneaking up on you. That's one situation where something as large as a bear might be useful."

"What about magical animals?" Jasmine asked.

"You may be able to create something with the form of a magical animal," McGonagall answered, "but it won't have their magical abilities. Remember, these animals aren't real. Just as transfigured pigs cannot reproduce and transfigured snakes cannot deliver genuinely deadly venom, a transfigured bird that looks like a phoenix will not be able to travel like a real phoenix or provide tears that heal. You cannot imbue it with the innate magic of the genuine article."

The rest of the afternoon was split between transfiguring pebbles into a small group of pesky flies and improving the details on their transfigured lions.

* * *

 **Saturday, November 20, 1995, Evening.**

Albus Dumbledore sat uncomfortably, sipping tea and trying to relax. He was seeing improvement, but his recovery was going far too slowly — he had a great deal that he needed to do and not a lot of time to do it in. He had intended to have a meeting earlier in the month with Miss Potter and Miss Granger to discuss another pensieve memory of Tom, but now it looked like next Saturday would be the best he could manage.

In lieu of going out and doing things that needed to be done, he'd been focusing on tasks that could be accomplished while sitting quietly in his office, like research. Even that took him much longer than normal, but he was making progress.

 _Something is destroying Tom's horcruxes_ , he thought, _and after three months I've finally found the thread that links all the incidents. The bad news, aside from the fact that I nearly died in discovering it, is that I've only found the barest tip of the thread — there is clearly much more going on here._

 _April 30, Beltane. September 22, the Autumnal Equinox. October 31, Samhain. All days of power. All dates on which one of Tom's horcruxes exploded. But... what_ _ **else**_ _?_ he asked himself with a frown. _Those haven't been the only days of power over the last few months, so there must be some other ingredient that I'm missing. My best guess is that someone is using the power of those dates to fuel a ritual of some sort, but what sort of ritual? A ritual aimed at Tom, or one aimed somewhere else with Tom's horcruxes getting caught by accident? Might it even be Tom himself, accidently damaging his own horcruxes? Who in wizarding Britain besides Tom might know enough about those old dates to do such a thing, let alone have the ability to perform such powerful rituals?_

 _Or maybe not Britain?_ Dumbledore realized as he sat up a bit straighter. _Some of those visiting witches held some sort of ritual celebration on Beltane while I was out of the castle. At least some of them were veela, so it's unlikely any of them were working for Tom. That was the only date they were here, though, so it wouldn't explain what happened on the other dates... at least, not directly. If some British witches and wizards attended, they might have been taught or simply inspired to continue after the visitors had left. That could explain where the knowledge might have come from, but not the reasons for or possible targets of the rituals._

Dumbledore shook his head. _I'll need to pull out some of the really old books to study the lore about these days more closely. It's been so long since I've even thought about them that I missed the significance of the dates the first two times a horcrux exploded. Merlin initiated the suppression of magical and ritual celebrations of those dates for good reasons, and not because they gave people excuses to engage in inappropriate public behavior. No, the power produced by rituals performed on such days cannot be predicted or controlled — he learned that the hard way when he found himself unable to quench Morgana's lust and ambition. There's no telling what forces even an amateur might unleash these days, never mind someone with experience._

 _If someone is playing around with magical rituals, I'll thank them for helping me with Tom... right before I put a stop to their dangerous activities._

* * *

 **Sunday, November 21, 1995, Afternoon.**

"My Lord," Snape said as he bowed low, worried that the Dark Lord would strike him dead right there and then for failing to save Nagini. Although in some ways the man had been acting a bit calmer recently, the disappearance of both Wormtail and Narcissa — at one time his favorite cursing targets — had also made him unpredictable when it came to punishments.

"I know you're afraid, Severus," Voldemort said. "Your inability to save Our familiar was... most distressing. However, you did manage to help Us, and that has earned you enough favor with Us that We will not punish you for your failure with Nagini."

"Thank you, my Lord," Snape replied, allowing his relief to show.

"Now, tell Us what you have to report."

"Last month, you instructed me to find out more about the witches who interfered with the attack on Hogsmeade—" Snape began, but he was almost immediately interrupted.

"We have already been informed of their identities," Voldemort announced. "Young Draco Malfoy was most helpful in that regard. It seems he continued to carefully observe Potter's movements and associations right through the end of last term."

Snape winced inwardly. It had been his plan to nudge Draco into revealing that information so that he himself wouldn't be caught between the Dark Lord's demands and his oaths to Dumbledore. Unfortunately, judging by his tone of voice, it didn't sound like Draco's participation had been entirely voluntary.

"One thing We are still uncertain about is the nature of Potter's involvement with those witches," Voldemort continued. "Draco's memories make it look as though they simply studied together, but is that all? What do you have to say on that matter, Severus?"

"Potter is part of a regular study group that is comprised almost entirely of witches, with only a few young wizards joining in," Snape explained, choosing his words carefully. His oaths to Dumbledore allowed him to say anything that downplayed Potter's skills or knowledge — not that that was difficult. "Currently, they seem to be focused on practical defense training."

"Training?" Voldemort asked, his interest piqued.

"I do not know how or why, but I imagine that Potter started this group in order to get help to make up for her own deficiencies. As I have told you before, she is an inferior witch at best and constantly needs help to keep up with her classmates. The only subject where she does have a modicum of skill is Defense, and from what I learned, I think she may be helping her peers with Defense in exchange for their help in other subjects."

"Interesting," Voldemort said absently. "So the ability of those witches in Hogsmeade is due to help from Potter, to the fact that they've spent more time working on defense because of Potter, or both?"

"That seems like the most reasonable conclusion, My Lord," Snape answered.

"Would you say that they spend much time together?" Voldemort asked. "That they have all become... close?"

"I believe so, my Lord," Snape answered, then suppressed a shiver when he saw the Dark Lord smile.

* * *

 **Monday, November 22, 1995, Morning.**

"I wonder if those regulations apply across Britain, or are only enforced here at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked as they entered the Great Hall.

"I doubt Fudge has reached the point where he's able to do that all across Britain," Jasmine answered. "I wouldn't be surprised if he'd like to, but I don't think people would put up with it — especially now that Sirius is free and can't be used as a scapegoat."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked as they sat down across from him.

"Oh, look, there's Hagrid!" Jasmine said suddenly, pointing up at the staff table. All three waved, pleased to see him but worried because he looked like he'd been in a fight with a rogue bludger — and lost pretty decisively.

"Didn't you see the newest Educational Decree?" Hermione asked when they turned back to their breakfasts.

Ron frowned. "There are so many out there now, how do you tell when there's something new?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's Number Seventy-Four and states that 'All owls must be tagged to comply with owl post Ministry censorship legislations.' We were discussing whether Ministry censorship applies only to Hogwarts, or all of Britain."

"That's barmy!" Ron exclaimed. "Why would anyone think they can get away—" Ron stopped in mid-rant and went a bit bug-eyed. Jasmine and Hermione realized what that must mean, but they were a half-second too late.

"You two!" came the annoying voice from behind them. "You're responsible for this, aren't you? Admit it!"

Turning in their seats, they found themselves confronted by Umbridge, who was waving a copy of _The Quibbler_ in their faces.

"Whatever do you mean?" Jasmine asked in as innocent a voice as she could muster. She concluded that she must not have been successful when Umbridge started turning purple again.

"You know very well what I mean!" she snapped. "You wrote this article about me, didn't you! Or at the very least you provided all of the information!"

"Why do you think we'd do something like that? Hermione asked sweetly.

"Because you've done it before!" Umbridge screeched. "You know that I know that your goal is to bring down both the Minister and the Ministry! You're trying to sow the seeds of dissent by lying about our government!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Jasmine saw the Headmaster approaching, so she asked, "Why do you possess a banned item, Madam Umbridge?"

"What?" Umbridge asked, caught up short by the unexpected question. "What are you talking about, you silly girl?"

"Excuse me, but what seems to be the problem here?" Dumbledore asked when he finally reached them.

Before Umbridge could answer, Hermione piped up. "Madam Umbridge was about to explain to us why she is in possession of an item which the Ministry has so thoughtfully banned from school."

Dumbledore raised one eyebrow, then looked at Umbridge and asked, "Is this true? Are you in violation of Ministry regulations, Madam Umbridge?"

"What?" she asked. "I... I don't... I mean, I'm..."

Dumbledore looked down at her hands and saw _The Quibbler_. "Ah, the most recent issue, I take it?" he asked as he reached out his hand. She seemed to almost automatically turn it over. "Yes, it is the most recent one," he said. "You definitely acquired this and brought it into the school after the ban went into effect."

"But I'm the Chief Inquisitor!" she protested.

"Indeed," Dumbledore conceded, "but you are also a member of staff here — something you and the Minister took great pains to make sure I understood when you arrived. If you'll remember, you also made a point of informing us that the ban on this publication also applied to staff: 'no exceptions,' I believe, was how you put it. That would, quite naturally, include you."

Dumbledore's eyes shifted over to Hermione and Jasmine, and they were sure they could see a brief twinkle in them before he turned back to the Pink Toad Lady. "Since this is your first offense, I'm willing to be overlook it. However, I must caution you to not be so cavalier with the rules in the future. The Ministry has created these regulations for our protection, and I'd hate to see what might happen to you if you were to continue flouting them."

Umbridge stammered and sputtered until she finally gave up trying to form a coherent sentence and stomped off. Dumbledore, who had maintained possession of said magazine, eyed the offending object thoughtfully. "I look forward to reading what all the fuss is about," he said with a nod to Luna, then departed himself.

* * *

 **Monday, November 22, 1995, Evening.**

Albus Dumbledore sat looking at the most recent issue of _The Quibbler_ , a contemplative yet concerned look on his face. He'd never paid the publication much attention before, not caring about mysterious magical creatures and conspiracy theories, but the recent articles dealing with politics had been surprisingly interesting. The current issue's article about Umbridge was no exception, but that wasn't what had him worried.

No, it was the article entitled "Witches and Magic."

 _None of this information is technically proscribed_ , he thought, _which is lucky for Xeno, because he'll be in enough trouble over the political articles. Then again, with everyone focused on the politics, the other material might slip past unnoticed. Could that have been deliberate? I might have overlooked it myself if it weren't for the fact that I've been studying the traditional rituals performed on the ancient magical holidays — rituals which incorporate feminine magic of exactly the sort written about here._

Dumbledore leaned back and closed his eyes as he tried to remember everything he could about Xenophilius Lovegood, yet he couldn't come up with anything subversive or dangerous. The man had been an intelligent and curious Ravenclaw while in Hogwarts, but somewhere along the line he had developed a fascination for strange animals and conspiracies. Dumbledore wasn't sure if they were a sign of him being unusually perceptive or merely barmy. Or maybe both.

Regardless, Dumbledore couldn't remember anything about him or his family which suggested that they had delved into Dark Arts, ancient rituals, or anything else which the Ministry had banned or restricted. _That doesn't mean they haven't been hiding it, however_ , he was forced to conclude. _Even if he is involved, I doubt that he alone could be performing rituals powerful enough to destroy Tom's horcruxes, whether that's the rituals' aim or if it's a side effect. Maybe if I can identify who else might be involved, that will give me better insight into what's going on and who these authors are. Since his daughter was in Hogwarts on the dates in question, she probably hasn't been involved. I'll need to discover who else writes for his publication and whom he most often associates with._

* * *

 **Saturday, November 27, 1995, Late Morning.**

"I've seen Zonko's when they're busy. I've seen Honeydukes get mobbed. I've even seen Madam Puddifoot's with all the tables full. But I have never, ever seen the Owl Post Office packed like that," Jasmine said.

"There are even students lined up, waiting outside to get in," Hermione observed. "What do you think... oh! I know!" The others all looked at her quizzically. "It's the Ministry censorship at Hogwarts," she explained. "If the owls here aren't tagged or monitored, students can send messages home from here!"

"Yeah, well, that probably won't last long," Jasmine said dejectedly. She turned to the others. "If any of you want to contact your families with any semblance of privacy, you'd better do it now — don't trust that this loophole will remain open past today." Everyone looked at each other, then Ginny and Neville both went to stand in the long line, but not before making arrangements to meet at the Three Broomsticks later. Jasmine and Hermione continued on with Gabrielle close behind — currently visible, because of the crowd.

"Do you think we should offer the help of Dobby and Winky?" Jasmine asked.

Hermione sighed deeply. "Maybe, but only in emergencies. They always look so tired after travelling all of the way to London and back. I think that a trip that far takes a lot out of them, and I don't think it would be right to keep exhausting them for mail delivery."

"I know, I mean for when we're sending messages anyway," Jasmine responded. "I doubt it's any harder to take a dozen letters than to take only one."

"True," Hermione agreed, "but if we keep relying on them to make our problems go away with a snap of their fingers, we'll end up making things worse for ourselves in the long run. We should try to limit ourselves to asking for their help as a last resort. Like with the basilisk — getting anyone else down there to do it would have been nearly impossible and taken a lot longer."

Jasmine nodded, having heard this argument in various forms before. It wasn't that she didn't agree, it was simply that she hated wasting time trying to discover a non-existent solution when there was already a feasible one at hand.

"Alright, we'll keep looking for other alternatives," Jasmine said.

During their entire trip in Hogsmeade, they and their friends never once let their guard down. Between the attack at the beginning of October and the assault on Katie Bell, everyone was worried about what would happen next.

* * *

 **Saturday, November 27, 1995, Evening.**

"You may find tonight's memories a bit more... disturbing than the earlier ones," Dumbledore said. "These involve a witch who was ill-treated by young Tom Riddle while they were here at Hogwarts. I want to make sure you understand what he has always thought about witches, muggleborn, and anyone else he considers inferior to himself. Perhaps even more importantly, I want you to understand how central his sadism is to his personality."

"Was he punished for what he did to this witch?" Jasmine asked.

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore replied. "I was unaware of what happened at the time, in part because I was distracted by events in Europe. Even if I had suspected... well, Tom had by that point become rather proficient with memory charms. He could not erase the underlying trauma, which produced significant changes in behavior that I eventually learned about, but he did suppress the specific memories. I would not have been allowed to delve into her mind to retrieve the original memories without Ministry authorization, and since she was a muggleborn..."

He didn't need to finish that sentence — the girls knew full well that as bad as the Ministry's attitude towards muggleborn was now, it was worse in the past.

"So how did you get this memory, then?" Hermione asked.

"My research into Tom's past led me to her," Dumbledore answered. "As I said, her change in behavior was noticed by others, and my interviews of her classmates suggested that she might have something useful to share. Once I realized that she had probably been obliviated, I got her consent to enter her mind and free her from the spell. As proficient as young Tom may have been, he was still a teenager when he did this, and by that point it had been quite a few years since the spells had been cast. It wasn't too difficult to restore her memories."

A shadow crossed Dumbledore's expression then, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was still the aftereffects of his mysterious injuries, or if there was something important he wasn't telling them.

"Well, let's move along, shall we?" the old man said briskly, and now his tone definitely struck her as whistling in the dark. She refrained from commenting, however, and quietly accompanied Jasmine into the Headmaster's pensieve.

She almost wished she hadn't.

"What are we doing here, Tom?" the young witch asked. Hermione thought she was rather plain looking, but pensieve memories always seemed a bit distorted and washed out to her, so she supposed that the witch might have been prettier than this memory could reveal.

"The same thing we always do here," Riddle drawled. Hermione could feel Jasmine shiver next to her and supposed that the sound of his voice, now a bit older and more mature than in the other pensieve trips, was bringing back some of Jasmine's own bad memories. Hermione thought she could see the handsome, charismatic man that he would eventually become, but his current smug attitude overrode any attractiveness he might possess.

"Wh-what?" the witch asked. "I've never been here with you."

"But of course you have!" Riddle said confidently, and Hermione noticed that he cast several silent spells behind his back, presumably to lock and silence the door. "I'm hurt that you don't remember." He paused, then dramatically snapped his fingers as if he'd remembered something. "Oh, that's right, of course you don't remember, mudblood! I obliviated you after I was done with you the last time!"

The witch's eyes went wide in shock as she started shaking her head violently. "N-no, that's not possible!"

"And the time before that," Riddle continued as he stalked towards her. "And the time before that, and the time before that! Why, I've lost count of how many times we've been here together."

"No!" the witch insisted as she tried to draw her wand, but Riddle already had his in his hand, and with a lazy flick he disarmed her. "Tut, tut, tut," he said condescendingly as he waggled her wand for emphasis. "I'd be offended that you tried to use magic against one of your betters, mudblood, but the truth is that you react in exactly the same way every time. It's almost boring now. Because you get such good grades in class, I'd have thought you intelligent and creative enough to eventually offer a different response, but I guess not. You're book-smart, but at the same time, not very smart at all, are you, mudblood?"

Hermione put her hand over her mouth, trying to force herself not to be sick.

All this time, the witch kept backing away from Riddle as he continued stalking towards her, completely unconcerned with her reactions. "You won't get away with this, Tom!"

He laughed cruelly at her protests. "Of course I'll get away with it! I've already gotten away with it, mudblood. Over and over and over. It's not even a challenge anymore! You're just a dirty mudblood who always has her nose in her books, who doesn't socialize, and who doesn't have any friends. No one will notice that your absence, and no one will notice that you're acting a bit... oddly for a while once you return. No one will know. No one will care. You isolated yourself from other students, thinking that if you could prove to everyone how smart and clever you were, that they'd finally accept you — that they'd accept that you belong in the wizarding world."

The witch's eyes widened even further at how well Riddle apparently knew her. Jasmine put her arm around Hermione's shoulder.

"It would never have worked, of course, because a mudblood with good grades is still a disgusting mudblood, just a more annoying one now. No, all you did by isolating yourself from the rest of the herd is make it easier for me to get you alone. Again."

"I'll scream, Tom!" she said as she found her back against the wall.

He laughed again, but this time in what sounded like genuine amusement. "Of course you'll scream, little mudblood witch. Why do you think I silenced the door instead of you? Why do you think I haven't used any spells to make you more pliable, like a Confundus Charm or even an Imperius Curse?"

Finally Riddle was standing in front of her, looking down and leering at her. "I _want_ you to scream, witch," he said in an eager voice. "That's what keeps me coming back to you over and over again. That's why you're my favorite little mudblood right now."

Hermione suddenly felt herself pulling away from the scene. "First we need to get rid of these clothes. We don't want to get them messed up, do we?" she heard Tom's voice continue in the distance. "Now, little witch, scream for me. Scream for me again and again..." Hermione was sure she could just start to hear a terrified shriek when she found herself back in the headmaster's office. Before her brain could process the sudden shift in locations, she was kneeling on the floor next to the pensieve, emptying her stomach of everything she'd eaten that day.

Fawkes trilled nearby and it helped, but only a little. Jasmine kneeling next to her, one arm around her shoulders and one hand holding back her hair, helped more.

After a minute Jasmine helped her up and guided her to the chairs in front of the headmaster's desk. The ancient wizard flicked his wand and vanished the sick from the floor.

"Why did you show us that?" Jasmine demanded. "That was awful!"

"As I said, I want you to understand how sadistic he is," Dumbledore responded. "You already know many things about him — his violence, his support of blood supremacism, his ego, etc. None of it, however, is as central a feature of his personality as his sadism is. He didn't torture that poor girl because she defied him, nor did he do it because he hated her muggle heritage. He did it simply because it gave him pleasure. I know you've experienced some of that sadism personally, Miss Potter."

"I think I could have managed to learn that without seeing the last minute or so," Hermione said bleakly.

"I apologize for that," he said sincerely. "I had intended to pull you out of the memory a few seconds earlier. Unfortunately, my reaction time isn't quite as fast as it used to be."

"There's... there's more?" Jasmine asked, a horrified look on her face.

"Oh, yes, quite a bit more," the Headmaster said sadly. "Even before he became Lord Voldemort, he was always a patient man. Patient in pursuing his goals. Patient when waiting for the right time to act. Patient... even in his cruelty."

"And you've seen it all?" Jasmine asked. "All of that memory, I mean?"

"Miss Potter, it's impossible to restore a suppressed memory without... experiencing it alongside the person you are trying to help." The old man's face looked haggard with pain. "Not merely _witness_ , but _experience_."

"She wasn't the only one, was she?" Jasmine asked.

"No, I'm quite sure that she was not," Dumbledore admitted. "However, she was the only one I've ever tracked down. I... I've been reluctant to try again."

"How... how can you possibly deal with..." Hermione tried to ask, not sure how to even begin to discuss such a thing.

Dumbledore sighed. "By cheating, Miss Granger. I'm not ashamed to say that I cheated. I do not believe that Tom was being overly dramatic when he said he'd lost count of how many times he'd done that — I think he was sincere. That's how many horrible memories I unblocked in that poor young witch. Perhaps even worse was the fact that all of the blocks were linked, so when I released one, they all came undone at once, flooding us both with scores of subjective hours of... well, I'd rather not go into the details. When I finally exited her mind, I found myself unable to properly deal with the experiences I'd just endured. Once I managed to find my way back to Hogwarts, I was almost catatonic in my quarters for several days, trying and failing to process what I had experienced in her mind. "

Dumbledore made an effort to collect himself, clearly still struggling with what had happened. "Finally I used a spell to extract the memories — not a copy, but the memories themselves. Dozens and dozens of them. Technically the memories weren't entirely removed, but all I can access are hints and flashes. Even those are horrible enough, and it took me weeks of Occlumency work to shut those away as well. I still know what happened, in a general and clinical sense, but the emotional experience is no longer there."

"And the witch?" Jasmine asked, unable to keep a tremor from her voice. "Were you able to help her, too?"

Dumbledore suddenly looked much, much older as he slumped in his chair. "As for that, I... I think that I made a grave mistake with her," he said slowly. "As hard as it was for me to deal with the memories of all of those incidents, it was even worse for her. Not only was she suddenly inundated with the memories of so many horrific assaults, but she also just as suddenly learned why her behavior had changed so much during her Hogwarts years. Why she slipped from the top of her class to near the bottom. Why she broke contact with her family and friends. Why she drifted from job to job in the muggle world, never able to form relationships or to stay in one place."

The Headmaster removed his spectacles and rubbed at his eyes. "Once I had removed the memories from my mind and was functional again, I immediately returned to her home... but I was too late. She had already taken her own life by then. I... I'm not sure what I should have done differently. Perhaps I should have had an experienced Mind Healer with me. Perhaps I shouldn't have left her alone. I... I don't know."

Lost in his own self-recriminations and grief, he didn't look up when the two young witches stood and moved towards the door. Jasmine was looking particularly hollow-eyed, and Hermione placed a hand on her shoulder in support. Before she closed the door behind her, Hermione turned back to the office and said, "You know, Headmaster, any sort of mental assault is still assault."

He looked up at her, startled, apparently only then noticing that they were leaving. "Physical force and assault aren't the only sort of violence out there," she continued softly. "Forcing oneself into someone's mind for your own purposes is still a form of violence, no matter how gentle you imagine you're being." Dumbledore's face paled slightly as the significance of her words sank home.

"I can understand why you wouldn't want to be burdened by all of those experiences," she continued, "but perhaps by going as far as you did to remove that burden, you also forgot what it's like to be the victim of someone who's only using you for their own personal ends? Maybe when you forget how a victim feels, it becomes easier to ignore how certain actions are crimes at all."

She gazed at him steadily for a long moment, then closed the door, leaving him alone again.

Fawkes trilled in distress at the emotional currents swirling in the room. Lifting his voice in song, the phoenix tried to soothe the anguish and pain coming through the bond, just as he had so many times in the past. After a few minutes, though, he stopped and looked at his companion in confusion. For the first time in the immortal bird's memory, that song hadn't improved the old wizard's mood.


	29. I Got You Babe

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Rocking the Boat" by DerLaCroix. After being assaulted by Vernon as soon as they get home at the start of the summer before fifth year, Harry decides to leave Privet Drive. Chased by the Order, he goes to the only person he thinks he can trust: Hermione. She frees him from bonds he didn't even know he had, and soon the two of them are off on an adventure that Hermione only ever read about in the racy novels she secretly reads.

* * *

 **Chapter 29 - I Got You Babe**

 **Monday, November 29, 1995, Afternoon.**

"Was that one of Jasmine's elves?" Walburga asked as Sirius walked into the hallway holding a letter.

"It was her elf, yes," Sirius answered. "Dobby."

"And he left already? Those two are always so tired when they travel between here and Hogwarts. They need to rest. They won't be much good if they exhaust themselves."

"You think I don't know that?" Sirius responded. "I tell them to rest, but they refuse. They are amazingly dedicated to their mistresses, and after all those girls have gone through, they absolutely hate to leave them alone for any great length of time. I can't say that I blame them, but I worry about what might happen, too."

Just then, Kreacher came walking by, muttering, "Miserable, disobedient, interfering, no-good elves always making more work..."

"What's wrong with Kreacher?" Walburga asked, confused.

Sirius smirked. "Kreacher doesn't like Dobby and Winky."

"Whyever not? I'd have expected him to have more regard for such dedicated elves!"

"I thought I told you about this," Sirius answered. "You remember that back during the summer, I had Kreacher keep the house looking bad so that the Weasleys would keep having something to clean up, thus keeping them out of my hair?" At Walburga's nod, he went on, "Well, I forgot to let Jasmine and Hermione in on that little scheme. They decided that they wanted to help me with the house, so they told their elves to pop in every couple of days and do some secret cleaning at night — not too much, just enough to help the Weasleys without being obvious."

"So... Kreacher was making things worse while the other two were reversing what he was doing?"

"Exactly!" Sirius said. "And since Dobby and Winky were told to avoid Kreacher, neither side knew about what the other was doing until the very end when Kreacher stumbled upon them and threw a fit!"

For the first time ever, Sirius was treated to the sight of his mother laughing. She clearly tried hard not to, but in the end she couldn't help herself. "Oh, poor Kreacher!" she finally said once she caught her breath.

"I'm rather proud of them for thinking to do that," Sirius said. "It goes to show how willing they are to take action when they see something that needs to be done."

"It also shows how important it is to keep them informed about what we're doing," Walburga added. "Denying them information leads to misunderstandings."

Sirius nodded. "There are a few things that I haven't told them, but maybe I should. Or we should, I guess. Their Occlumency should be improved enough by the holidays."

"Good," Walburga said with satisfaction. "Now, did they have anything important to say in their letter?"

"Nothing huge," Sirius replied as he read down the parchment. "Umbridge is getting worse, as we warned them she would. It's becoming harder to get the _Quibbler_ into the school, but they are succeeding so far. The most interesting thing may be the lessons they are still getting from Albus. Hermione thinks he's working up to something important — that he wouldn't be spending so much time drawing out these lessons if it were simply to give them some insight into Voldemort's childhood and psychology."

Walburga nodded in agreement. "I've wondered the same thing myself. He's been an educator all his life, and a good one, too. I may not have liked him as a person, and his politics have always left much to be desired, but there was no denying that he was a good teacher. So all of this must have an important point — something that makes the time and effort worthwhile. I just don't know what."

"The most important things that he needs to tell them about are the prophecy and horcruxes," Sirius pointed out. "I don't see how either of them would require the build-up he's working on."

Walburga considered the problem before finally saying, "I don't see a connection either. Both can be understood without all of that background material, even if the material might help. Perhaps you should push him to reveal the truth over the holidays. Give him an ultimatum. Then we'll see if he rushes those 'lessons' or continues them afterwards anyway."

Sirius nodded slowly. "I suppose I can do that. Jasmine and Hermione need that information sooner rather than later anyway. I'll contact him about having another meeting together, maybe after the next Order meeting here."

* * *

 **Tuesday, November 30, 1995, Evening.**

"My Lord," Bellatrix said as she bowed low in supplication. "Command me, and I will obey."

"We know you will, Bella," Voldemort said. "That's why We have called you in here. We have an important project which We are giving to you."

She looked up at him on his throne, her eyes shining with adulation. "Whatever it is that you wish, consider it done!"

"Good," he said with a chilling smile, then handed her a piece of parchment. "Here is a list of names and addresses. Each name is of a witch currently attending Hogwarts — a witch who has become close to Potter and who dared stand up to Our servants when they attacked Hogsmeade last month."

"They deserve death for that!" Bellatrix hissed.

"Exactly, Bella," responded Voldemort, "and that will be your task. We want you to scout each address, find out how many people live there, then devise a plan that will let you attack each location on the same night with the forces currently at our disposal. We want each of those witches dead."

"What of their families?" she asked with a hungry look in her eyes.

Voldemort pondered that for a moment. "Leave them alive for now. Alive, but not unscathed. You may torture and curse them, but they must be alive _and_ sane at the end. Broken parents who have lost their children will spread more fear and uncertainty right now than dead bodies will."

"Yes, my Master," she replied as she bowed again.

"Burn their homes, too, but leave no evidence that would point to Our having returned. Do you understand?"

"Absolutely," she assured him.

"We would like the attack to take place just before they return to Hogwarts in January. We give you three weeks to gather all the intelligence you need, then two more weeks to train Our servants to carry out your plan. We want to see your plan by the end of next month, though."

"Of course — I will begin gathering information tonight! I won't rest until all those who oppose you lie dead at your feet!"

"You will not be able to use all of Our servants, however," Voldemort cautioned her. "Rookwood requires a few to help on an even more important mission." When he saw that she was about to volunteer for that mission too, he held up a hand. "It's a project in the Ministry, and Rookwood knows the Ministry better than you. You would not have been suited to such a task."

"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix said, chastened. "I will not question your orders."

"Very good," Voldemort said. "The attack which Thaddeus planned for Hogsmeade did not go so well because of those witches. We would have punished him harshly had he returned, even though the mission itself was more successful than not. He at least had the excuse that he could not have expected young witches to have put up such a fight. You, however, will have no such excuse. Remember that."

"I understand," Bellatrix said. "I will prove to you that I am far better than Nott!"

"Excellent," Voldemort said. "You may leave, then." As he watched her exit his throne room, he once again questioned the wisdom of having such an insane witch working for him. _Then again_ , he thought, _where else would We find someone who enjoys being in pain almost as much as We love causing it?_

* * *

 **Wednesday, December 1, 1995, Morning.**

"Amelia, beautiful as ever!" Sirius exclaimed as he bent forward, taking Madam Bones' hand and gently kissing it. "I never did get a chance to thank you for helping me prove my innocence. Perhaps you'd consent to join me for dinner one evening this week so I can express my gratitude more... personally?"

"Sirius Black," Madam Bones said rather sternly as the now well-dressed Marauder took a chair on the other side of her desk. "It's been a month. I know that I didn't give you a specific time-frame in which I wanted you to meet with me, but I did expect you sooner than this. A lot sooner."

Sirius looked a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry about that, Amelia. I was frankly amazed at how much I had to do once I was free. Well, no, not so much 'amazed' as 'completely overwhelmed.' Gringotts alone required several day-long meetings to go over accounts, investments, loans, and whatnot. I had old family alliances to shore up, other alliances to break... and I'm still not done! I allowed you to fall to the bottom of the list of things to take care of and... well, I shouldn't have. I'm truly sorry."

For the first time since he had entered the office, he saw the barest hint of a smile appear on her face. "I guess I can understand that. It's hard on anyone just let out of prison, and I suppose you've had it harder than most. Let's forget about it and get down to business."

"Perhaps I can express my sincere apologies in a less formal context... like over dinner some time this week?" Sirius asked hopefully.

"Business," Bones reiterated, arching one eyebrow.

"Very well — what is it you needed from me first?" Sirius asked resignedly.

"First and foremost," Bones said, "I need to know how exactly you managed to escape from Azkaban. You were the first and only... well, no, I guess that's not true anymore. I'm so used to thinking of you that way that I tend to forget what Alastor told us about Crouch Jr. Unless you had outside help as well, you're the first to escape Azkaban alone. That means there is a security hole that we need to plug."

"I didn't realize you were still using Azkaban."

"We're not at the moment," Bones admitted. "We're going to have to rework security from the ground up, preferably without the use of Dementors. This is simply one part of that project. The fact that we aren't desperate for that information right now is one reason why I'm not angrier at you for taking so long to meet with me."

"Just so we're clear," Sirius said carefully, "since I never had a trial and was never legally incarcerated in the first place, it wasn't illegal for me to break out, right? That means that I can't be arrested, charged, fined, or prosecuted for anything I did to escape?"

Bones narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Normally I'd say yes, but now you have me worried." After a moment's thought, she continued, "I guess I have to say yes anyway, despite my better judgment. But that only applies if you didn't cause any serious harm. If you killed or maimed anyone, I'm charging you with that crime. If you merely knocked them out... well, I guess I can overlook a case of simple assault, given the circumstances. Though an apology to the person would go a long way to help."

Sirius smiled and stood up. "That won't be necessary," he said just before he transformed into a large Grim. Putting his front paws on the edge of Bones' desk, his long tongue lolled out in a doggy grin as she jumped up out of her chair and took a step back in surprise.

"Woof!"

"Sirius Black!" she exclaimed. "You... you old dog, you!"

"Woof! Woof!" he replied, always amused by puns, no matter what form he happened to be in.

"Fine," she said as she sat back down. "You're an animagus. An illegal one, too, since I don't remember seeing this in your file."

"Woof!"

"Oh, transform back," she said impatiently.

Sirius was almost immediately back in his human form and sitting in his chair. "So, no charges for being an illegal animagus?"

"No, but you'll need to register."

"I'd... rather wait on that, if I can," he replied. "Until You-Know-Who is stopped, it's an invaluable advantage that no one knows about."

Bones nodded. "I can understand that. I'll make a notation in your file and seal it so that only the Head of the DMLE can read it. That will count as your official notification to the Ministry. If it doesn't happen to make it to the animagus list, well... that's not your fault, is it?"

"Thanks," Sirius said with a smile. "I'll owe you one."

Bones responded with a smile of her own, though this one a bit more predatory. "Good, I'll be sure to collect. Now how did being an animagus help you?"

Sirius gulped audibly, suddenly a bit worried about the deal he'd made. "Well, being a dog helped protect me from the effects of the Dementors — they didn't pay attention to animals. That kept me mostly sane. Once I realized Peter was alive, I had a reason to leave, and luckily my dog form was thin enough to slip through the bars. Since the Dementors mostly ignored animals, well, I trotted out at a time when the human guards were looking the other way."

Bones shook her head. "So simple and obvious, but no one ever thought about it. OK, that means we'll definitely have to take precautions against animagi. Maybe something to prevent transformation."

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" he asked.

"Perhaps," she answered. "I put a lot of effort into getting your trial, and it wasn't all for the sake of justice. It was also to eventually get rid of Fudge so we can better defend our society against You-Know-Who. I'd like your help with both, if possible."

Now it was Sirius' turn to give a predatory smile.

* * *

 **Wednesday, December 1, 1995, Evening.**

"She shot you down, didn't she?" Remus asked, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

"Get stuffed, Moony," Sirius growled. "I'm not out of the game yet. I'm just... a little rusty, is all."

"Oh, is that what you call it?" Remus asked as Tonks snickered in the background.

"Of course," Sirius insisted. "Back in Hogwarts, there wasn't a single witch who could resist my charms."

"Eww, even the little firsties?" Tonks asked. "That's sick."

"Put a sock in it, _Nymphadora_ ," Sirius retorted, earning a roll thrown at his head. "I need to get in the swing of things again. You'll see."

"Maybe you'd find it easier to attract a witch today if you hadn't gone through so many of them at Hogwarts," Remus pointed out. "You got a bit of a reputation."

"That, and prison didn't help," Tonks chimed in.

"What can I say? None of them could keep up with me — I had a pretty strong libido. And now that it's coming back, it needs to be satisfied." He looked a bit smug as he returned his attention to his meal.

"Sure, Padfoot, sure," Remus said."Whatever you say."

* * *

 **Thursday, December 2, 1995, Evening.**

"I assume you're going to need more distractions on the night of the twenty-second?" Filius asked as he sipped his tea.

"Yes, and thank you," Minerva replied..

"You didn't have too many problems last time, did you?" Fleur asked.

Filius shrugged. "It wasn't difficult, but she's such an odious woman to be around regardless of the circumstances. To have to actively seek out her company... well, let's say that there aren't many people I'd be willing to make such a sacrifice for."

"We probably won't need as long for Yule as we did for Samhain, will we?" Minerva asked.

"Actually, I zink Adrienne plans on celebrating both sunset and sunrise for ze solstice," Fleur responded, "So we would need to leave in ze afternoon and won't return until breakfast ze next day."

"That will be a long night," Filius sighed. "One of these days I hope I'll get a chance to see one of the rituals. Everything I hear about them makes them seem spectacular."

"One of zese days we will not have to hide," Fleur said a little sadly. "I do not know how long zat will be, zough."

* * *

 **Friday, December 10, 1995, Late Morning.**

The one-year anniversary of Jasmine and Hermione becoming a couple arrived faster than either of them had anticipated. Normally they were so busy that they found it difficult to keep track of such dates, but they were determined to make time for this one, regardless of what it did to their schedule. They were glad that it happened to fall on a Friday, making it easier to stay up a bit later than usual.

Originally Jasmine had assumed she'd be making the arrangements, but Hermione put a stop to that right away. Jasmine had taken the lead on planning most of their important dates, and Hermione wanted to have a chance at doing the same.

She had an idea for the Room of Requirement that she'd been mulling over for a while, and now seemed the perfect time to try it out. During the break between Arithmancy and lunch, she called in Dobby and Winky to get their input on the food, and the excited elves were only too happy to help plan the menu.

With Hermione maintaining strict veto power, of course.

* * *

 **Friday, December 10, 1995, Evening.**

"This is amazing!" Jasmine exclaimed, gazing around her in awe. "Are we outside? How did you manage this?"

They were standing on a grassy area edged by bushes and young trees. Around them were elegantly sculpted planters full of evening primroses, moonflowers, and night-blooming jasmine, their fragrance drifting towards them on the warm breeze. The soft chirping of crickets competed with the trickle of running water which could be heard coming from somewhere nearby. Fairy lights sprinkled the trees, but otherwise Jasmine couldn't quite tell where the light was coming from.

Laid out on the grass was a blanket and a picnic basket.

"Do you like it? It's basically a big greenhouse," Hermione said with no small amount of pride. "A greenhouse is a kind of room, right? Anyway, I thought it might be a nice antidote to Scotland in December. A moonlight picnic, maybe a little stargazing..."

Jasmine looked up, and sure enough, there were stars winking overhead.

"I couldn't quite swing actual daylight," Hermione continued apologetically, "but I figured if the ceilings were high enough, something like the spell in the Great Hall that shows the weather outside might make for a suitable sky. Fortunately the Room was able to oblige me."

"It's brilliant," Jasmine said eagerly, lifting her face to drink in the breeze. "I've never been an outdoorsy kind of person, but I feel like I haven't seen a living plant outside of Herbology in months. I... I dunno, I guess I've missed it."

"I know what you mean," Hermione said with a smile. "Well, come on — picnicking awaits!" She took her girlfriend's hand and led her over to the blanket. "We wouldn't want all the elves' hard work to go to waste, would we?"

They stretched themselves out and proceeded to have a leisurely, romantic meal filled with plenty of finger foods to feed each other... and nary an oyster or avocado in sight. Afterwards they snuggled together and gazed up at the stars, occasionally kissing or sharing their dreams for what their future together might bring. Mostly, though, they were content to enjoy the peace and tranquility in each other's arms.

All in all, it was a perfect evening for their first anniversary. Or at least it was once they snuck back into the dorm and disappeared behind Hermione's sealed and silenced bed curtains.

* * *

Theodore Nott spent at least twenty minutes walking back and forth along the seventh floor corridor, desperate to get the Room of Requirement to appear. When he finally figured out that there must be someone else in there already, he spent over an hour more lurking in the same corridor, trying to see who might come out and hoping to get a little time in there after them.

Eventually he had to give up and leave, but by then it was well after curfew. Before he could make it back to the Slytherin dorm all the way down in the dungeon, he was cornered by Snape, who had been looking for him. Much to his chagrin, he was forced to endure yet another offer of help — an offer which he spurned without a second thought, like all the others. Getting some help (or even some guidance) was all too tempting, but the Dark Lord had made it clear that he was to fulfill his two tasks alone: open a way into the castle for the Dark Lord's servants while harassing the muggle-loving Headmaster with attempts on his life. And after what had happened to his father, he couldn't afford to fail...

Nearby, Blaise Zabini watched and listened while Daphne Greengrass stood guard.

* * *

 **Sunday, December 12, 1995, Afternoon.**

"The last two times you insisted on seeing me, you had some rather surprising things to tell me," Dumbledore said as he gently lowered himself to the couch. "So I must confess, I was both concerned and curious when you contacted me yesterday about another meeting."

"Nothing quite so dramatic as the last two times," Sirius assured the headmaster, "but it _is_ important, and it's something I wanted to talk to you about sooner rather than later to give you time to prepare. But how are you doing? You still seem to be moving rather gingerly."

Dumbledore smiled and waved a hand dismissively. "I'm still not completely well, but I'm much better than I was. I seem to improve a little every day, at least so long as I don't overdo it. Sadly, my responsibilities are such that not overdoing it is a difficult goal to achieve."

"I can't say I'm surprised, but I'm glad to hear that you are getting better," Sirius replied. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Jasmine. I think it's time she was informed about the horcruxes and the prophecy — the full prophecy, not merely the first lines."

"Sirius," Dumbledore said with a frown, "I don't think that's a good idea. She's far too young for such a burden."

"The real burden is constantly being targeted for murder," Sirius insisted. "The real burden is having to fight for her life every year in your school. Knowing _why_ she's targeted for murder won't add nearly so much as you seem to think."

"It's not simply knowledge of why Voldemort is after her," Dumbledore protested.

"Then what is it?"

"It's not something that I can risk getting out. Voldemort would do anything to obtain that information."

"I'm quite skilled at Occlumency, if that's what you're worried about," Sirius said. "Jasmine and Hermione are getting proficient at it as well. They practice every night and have been doing so for quite a few months."

Dumbledore's eyes widened briefly in surprise. "Really? That is interesting. Useful, too. It's good to know that a passive use of Legilimency can't be used to take important information from her, but that doesn't address my other concerns."

"My goddaughter is already carrying a heavy load," Sirius argued. "She has been ever since she was brought into the wizarding world. Too much, frankly, and if I'd been free I'd have done something to stop it — as you should have, but didn't. We can't change the past, though, so we have to deal with what we have now. That means helping her as much as we can — and I think it requires that she be informed about the full story. In a sense, she's _already_ burdened by these things, but she doesn't know why yet... and knowing might make it easier. She needs to know why he keeps coming after her. She needs to know how he's able to avoid dying. She needs to know what she is up against."

Dumbledore sat silently, deep in thought.

"Unless, of course, you can guarantee that Jasmine will never have to fight Voldemort again in the future," Sirius offered. "I could take her out of the country, finish her education elsewhere. Then she need not learn anything more about him."

Dumbledore couldn't hide the panic he momentarily felt. "Are you saying that you would remove her from Britain if I refuse your request?"

Sirius shook his head. "As much as I'd like to, I wouldn't want to take the choice away from her. Far too many people in her life have already done that. I would, however, argue strongly in favor of leaving Britain. I'd argue that people here don't deserve her fighting for them if they refuse to fully inform her about why she's fighting and what she's fighting against. And if she decides she wants to leave, I'll happily take her."

"You would condemn Britain—"

"A community and government that put me in Azkaban without a trial," Sirius interrupted. "A community that didn't care about what was happening to Jasmine when she was living with those muggles you stuck her with. I know that you think she's the only one who can stop Voldemort, but I'm betting there's more in the rest of the prophecy, am I right?" Dumbledore remained silent. "If you want her to stay in Britain to fight in a war against that bastard, then you owe her full disclosure. Whether you think she's ready for it or not, you owe it to her because you're already burdening her far beyond what any teenager deserves by expecting her to stay and fight in the first place."

"Maybe you have a point," Dumbledore conceded with a sigh. "I... will need to think on this."

"That's why I came to you now," Sirius responded. "I'd like her to be informed during the coming Christmas holiday. I know it's a long one, so there will be plenty of time to fit it in."

* * *

 **Saturday, December 18, 1995, Evening.**

Dumbledore leaned back in his most comfortable chair — something he found himself needing more often these days due to his slow recovery — and read through the latest issue of _The Quibbler_. Despite the ban imposed by Madam Umbridge, he knew that students in Hogwarts continued to obtain their own copies. He suspected that Miss Potter and Miss Granger were involved, but he didn't look into it too closely so he could honestly claim ignorance.

It was in fact becoming more and more difficult to get a copy of the magazine across Britain generally. Minister Fudge had tried and failed on multiple occasions to get it banned outright, but he was still able to interfere with its distribution in various ways. _Poor Cornelius_ , Dumbledore chuckled to himself. _He doesn't seem to realize that he's only making the publication even more popular. What was once a marginal and even ridiculed magazine is now one of the most sought-after periodicals every month._

It was not the political articles that Minister Fudge hated so much which Dumbledore was focusing on, however. Instead, he was more interested in a set of articles dealing with ancient goddesses and their relationship to magic. Although not stated outright, he recognized that they were a continuation of the previous articles dealing with feminine aspects of magic. Moreover, he could not help but recognize even more connections to old ritual magic.

 _I don't think that these articles were written by an expert practitioner_ , Dumbledore concluded, _which is a relief because the amount of power such a person might be able to wield could pose a serious problem. Nevertheless, the author does demonstrate quite a bit of knowledge, which means they must be reasonably experienced. I think I'd rate the chances of rituals being behind the destruction of Tom's horcruxes as being much higher now, which only means that the importance of identifying this person — or persons — and stopping them before they do real damage is much greater now as well._

Dumbledore set the _Quibbler_ aside and started running through all of Xenophilius Lovegood's known associations. The man was a bit of a recluse with strange interests, so it wasn't a long list. Most of the people on it were odd enough to plausibly be interested in unusual, restricted magic — and more importantly, to not care about the social or political backlash if such an interest were made public. Unfortunately, his investigations — limited as they were due to his busy schedule and injuries — hadn't turned up even the tiniest shred of evidence that any of those witches or wizards might be involved in anything remotely like ritual magic, let alone feminine magic or ancient goddesses.

He was at a dead end with no leads to follow, a position he didn't like to be in. Even worse, he simply didn't have the time to develop something new on his own because he was being pushed by Sirius into revealing to Jasmine Potter truths that he had hoped to delay talking about for a while yet. The fact that Sirius might have been right didn't help, either. _I'm going to have to set the Lovegood question aside for now_ , Dumbledore reluctantly decided. _Maybe next month's issue will have something new I can work with._

* * *

 **Sunday, December 19, 1995, Afternoon.**

"Are you two looking forward to Yule and Christmas?" Minerva asked as she poured her tea.

"Yes, very much so," Hermione said.

"It's kind of weird to be talking about them separately," Jasmine added, "but at the same time, it's starting to sound normal."

"That's good to hear," McGonagall responded. "I'm pleased to see how well you're doing since you started adopting these practices last term. I mean, I remember some of these rituals from when I was a wee lass, so for me it's all rather nostalgic. For you, though, it represents quite a shift in perspective."

Hermione thought about that. "I guess you're right, Professor, but I have to say that aside from the initial strangeness, it's all felt natural somehow. Even the massive amount of power moving around and through us hasn't been scary or uncomfortable in any way, though you'd think it would be."

"I think it also helps that all our friends are there with us," Jasmine added. "That feels right, too."

Minerva nodded. "Speaking of your friends, have you thought at all about when you're going to tell them more of the truth?"

"Do you mean about Hermione and me, or...?" Jasmine asked.

"Any of it," Minerva said. "I'm not going to push you, but knowledge of the veela prophecy would help them understand the rituals better. It might make them even more enthusiastic, not to mention how the prophecy fits in with some of the goals you already established last term for S.P.E.W."

"And we can't explain that prophecy without telling them about our relationship," Hermione said with a sigh.

"I know you have a lot of concerns about revealing your relationship to others," Minerva said, "and caution is definitely warranted. But the closer you are to someone, the more such secrets will undermine or even poison your relationship when they finally find out. You can't keep so much of yourself from someone and still claim to be close."

"Do you think they'll still accept us once they know?" Jasmine asked, sounding nervous.

"It's impossible to say for certain," Minerva answered, "but given how positive their response has been to the rituals and the veela, I think you have a lot of reasons to be optimistic."

"What about Sirius?" Hermione asked. "Should we tell him?"

Minerva looked thoughtful. "I think you're in a much better position than when you asked me that last term, but I'm still not certain about him, either. I'm not sure I spend enough time with him to know, however. I would recommend that you pay close attention to your interactions over the coming holiday and decide based on that. Telling him over the holiday would give you a bit of time with him afterwards, but then he has next term to get used to the idea before you're home for the summer."

The girls nodded and were soon lost in thought.

* * *

Sharpaxe looked over the latest reports from Cornwall and marvelled at how much the magical and mundane landscape there and in the surrounding areas was changing. If he hadn't been there to witness the ritual, he never would have believed anyone's story about it. He even had trouble believing his own report! What's more, the effects seemed to be continuing — slowly and getting slower, but continuing nonetheless.

And now he had to make preparations for observing yet another one.

 _If this keeps up_ , he thought, _we won't be able to prevent the spread of information about the rituals and what they are doing. Rumors are already spreading! We've got warding teams involved, and while we've kept them in the dark, they're not completely blind. My personal guards witness the rituals, but I know they, at least, will keep quiet. But then there are also the scouts who bring us back these reports, and while they may be trustworthy, I can't be sure that none of them will inadvertently let something drop. And I have no idea how many are aware of the High Priestess' many trips, or what she's doing when she's away._

Sharpaxe sighed as he toyed with his eyepatch. _I doubt anyone has even thought about this problem. We're so concerned with witches and wizards finding something out that we've forgotten about the rumor mill in our own population. I'll have to write to the Queen with some recommendations. I suspect we'll need to make some sort of official announcement that admits to at least some of this... no later than after Beltane, but possibly sooner. This is going to be a nightmare, I'm sure of it._

* * *

 **Sunday, December 19, 1995, Evening.**

Almost a week after his conversation with Sirius, Dumbledore was again meeting with Jasmine and Hermione to show them more memories relating to the history of Tom Riddle. This time it was the memory of a house elf which had been found guilty of the murder of a witch — a witch who happened to know Tom Riddle. It just so happened that she owned two priceless objects that had once belonged to the Founders of Hogwarts, a subject Riddle was obsessed with. Those objects turned up missing after her murder.

"I take it the elf wasn't guilty?" Hermione asked.

"I do not believe so, no," Dumbledore replied, not quite looking her in the eye. He was still uncomfortable about how their last meeting ended and wasn't sure what to do about it. "I believe that she had her memory modified at the very least, and perhaps acted under the Imperius curse. Regardless, she was not truly responsible for the crime she was convicted of." Hermione was clearly horrified at how badly the elf had been treated, though Jasmine quickly pointed out that humans could also be imprisoned for crimes they didn't commit — it appeared to be a running theme in the so-called "justice" system of wizarding Britain.

"Why would he care so much about those two items — a cup and a locket?" Jasmine asked.

"He was always quick to take things from others," Dumbledore reminded them. "Remember the stolen items he had hidden in his wardrobe in the orphanage."

"Yes, but those were things he took from kids who hurt him, weren't they?" Hermione asked. "Hepzibah Smith never hurt him. She was nice to him."

"It's true that there was more involved," Dumbledore admitted, "but that's a story for another evening. For now, I want to be sure that you understand how his desire for possessing trophies continued through his adult years. It's also important to note how he looks down on so-called 'lesser beings' as little more than tools for his personal ends."

Both witches nodded, but before they could leave the Headmaster had one more thing to say. "Miss Potter, I've been wondering something: how has your scar been?"

"My scar?" she asked, reflexively reaching up to pull her hair in front of it. "It's been fine. In fact, I haven't felt so much as a twinge in a while now. Why?"

"It's growing fainter," Hermione pointed out.

"Really?" Dumbledore asked, surprised. "May I see it?"

Jasmine pulled back her bangs as Dumbledore walked around his desk, revealing to him a scar that was much thinner and lighter than it had ever been before.

"And it hasn't bothered you at all in a while, you say?" Dumbledore asked as he leaned over and peered closely at her forehead.

"Nope, nothing," Jasmine responded.

"And what about dreams?" he asked as he stood back up straight.

"Nothing since that weird dream back in the summer before fourth year," Jasmine answered. "That one where I only heard him and saw someone that seemed to be kneeling in front of me."

Dumbledore nodded absently as he walked back around his desk and sat back in his chair.

"Thank you for that information," Dumbledore finally said. "If you feel anything at all, even the slightest twinge, please let me know immediately. And of course the same goes for any sort of dream or vision involving Voldemort. I'll instruct the gargoyle to let you through immediately if you say that it's an emergency."

"Uh, thank you," Jasmine said as she and Hermione stood to leave. "I promise to come here right away."

Once they were gone, Dumbledore stood and pulled out his pensieve. "This is most unexpected," he said softly to himself. "Most unexpected indeed. What happened to your scar, Miss Potter? You didn't explode, which is good news, but what happened to the horcrux, and what will this mean for the prophecy?"


	30. I'll Follow the Sun

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Three to Backstep" by Sinyk. A combination of time-travel challenges from reptilia28 and finds himself thrown back in time with Hermione and Daphne Greengrass. They've all been given orders to set things right this time around, and maybe find happiness as well.

* * *

 **Chapter 30 - I'll Follow the Sun**

 **Tuesday, December 21, 1995, Late Morning.**

"Today you're going to start learning human transfiguration," Professor McGonagall announced. "This is a very difficult, very advanced skill which is not normally taught until your sixth year. However, you are all doing so well that I've decided to introduce some of the basics to you now in order to give you more time to practice and learn it before graduation."

Everyone looked at their partners, eager to start learning something so advanced.

"The first thing we're going to work on is changing the color of one of your eyebrows," McGonagall continued. "Now, this might not seem important since you can achieve the same effect with a color charm. However, charms are more superficial and can usually be ended with a simple _Finite_. Changing the color of hair with transfiguration, in contrast, lasts much longer. The reason why it's not used all the time is that not only is it much more difficult, it's also much riskier if you do anything wrong."

Professor McGonagall kept a close watch on what everyone was doing in order to ensure that there were no serious accidents. Hermione successfully transfigured one of her eyebrows red while Jasmine was mostly successful making one of hers yellow. Unfortunately, she also ended up doing the same to some of the hair on her head, giving her a strange yellow streak to go with the eyebrow.

"You know," Hermione said thoughtfully, "if you learned how to do this well, you might be able to use it to disguise yourself."

"You mean, go out in public without getting stared at?" Jasmine asked. "That would be... well, amazing, frankly."

"Skill with human transfiguration is also the first and most important step towards becoming an animagus," McGonagall said quietly behind them. "Just give it some thought," she added as they looked at her with wide eyes.

The biggest surprise of the class came when Ron somehow managed to transfigure a moustache onto his face instead of coloring his eyebrow. He swore it was an accident; fortunately for all concerned, McGonagall was able to reverse it. Other than Jasmine and Hermione, only two Ravenclaws, Padma and her partner, Mandy Brocklehurst, had much success.

* * *

 **Tuesday, December 21, 1995, Evening.**

"Jasmine, did you do something to your eyebrows?" Luna asked that evening as the study group's meeting was drawing to a close.

"What?"

"Your eyebrows," Luna repeated. "One of them looks a bit lighter."

Hermione stared hard at Jasmine's face. "Actually, she's right — your right eyebrow is a bit lighter."

Jasmine sighed resignedly. "I thought I fixed that, but I guess I didn't get it quite right. I'll have to ask McGonagall tomorrow."

"At least you got your hair back correctly," Hermione consoled her.

"Before we break up for the night, there's something we need to tell you," Daphne said softly while Tracey and Blaise checked for eavesdroppers. "Blaise caught bits of a conversation between Snape and Nott while he and I were out patrolling. Nott is definitely up to something — he's got some sort of task from You-Know-Who. Snape offered to help him with it, but he refused."

"Wow," Jasmine said.

"Yeah, wow," Padma agreed.

"We knew Nott was up to something bad," Hermione said, "but I never would have thought that he would have accepted a task directly from Voldemort."

"It seems likely that if he's not already marked, this job — whatever it is — will lead to it," Tracey said.

"I think that Snape offering to help him with such a job is bigger news," Susan insisted. "Nott isn't nearly as much of a threat to the school as a teacher is."

"Should we talk to Dumbledore about this?" Hermione asked.

"He's always supported and protected Snape," Jasmine said, "but it wouldn't hurt to at least try." When Blaise started looking nervous, Jasmine hastened to add, "Don't worry, I won't mention anyone from Slytherin. I didn't mention any of you when I listed how many witnesses I had for the fight with Malfoy, either. I know you three are in a tough position, and I won't endanger you if I can help it."

All three Slytherins looked relieved and thanked Jasmine for making the effort to protect them.

* * *

When Hermione entered Jasmine's bed that night for their mind magics practice, she was clutching a leather folio stuffed with parchment. "Isn't that the biography of Dumbledore?" Jasmine asked as she got herself settled.

"Yes, I've been reading it a bit at a time, cross-referencing things whenever I could," Hermione answered. "There's something here that I wanted to bring to your attention—"

"This isn't more bad news, is it?" Jasmine interrupted. "Am I going to want to strangle him with his own beard again?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, nothing like that. It's more... well, I think I might understand him a bit better." Jasmine raised a questioning eyebrow, so she went on, "I know we've both been frustrated by his attitude towards violence — that he seems to want people to stun and incapacitate attackers, even if that increases the risk to everybody else."

Jasmine rolled her eyes. "Frustrated hardly covers it."

"I know, I know," Hermione responded as she opened the folio and turned to a marked page. "But I think the key, or one of the keys, is his experiences during the war. You remember those memories he showed us? Well, there's a bunch in here about the battles he fought in, including interviews from French and British wizards who were involved. According to these reports, some of those battles were much worse than what we saw."

"You're saying that it affected him?" Jasmine asked.

"Well, I know it can affect muggles. My grandfather was involved in the muggle war at that time, and while I barely remember him, my mother told me stories about how his experiences in the war affected him. My grandmother always said that he was a fun-loving guy when he was younger. When he came back from the war, though, his personality had radically changed. He was a lot quicker to anger, and a lot harsher when he was angry. She understood the reasons for the changes and refused to leave him, but he ended up more or less estranged from his kids because of it."

"But that's kind of the opposite of what we're seeing with Dumbledore."

"I know," Hermione replied, "I'm just saying that war can create dramatic changes in a person. Professor Dumbledore didn't become meaner, which we should be thankful for, but that doesn't mean he was unaffected by all the death and destruction."

"I guess it's not hard to imagine living through that, then deciding to do everything possible to avoid anything like it ever happening again," Jasmine mused.

"And that's not all," Hermione said, flipping through the parchment again. "You remember the tombstone in Godric's Hollow with the name 'Dumbledore' on it? That's the Headmaster's family. Or his mother and sister, at any rate."

"What happened to them?"

"I'm not sure of the details — this is one section she hasn't finished writing," Hermione said. "Or... I guess it's possible that she didn't include everything. Even what is here is pretty explosive. You remember the name Gellert Grindelwald?"

"He's the one Dumbledore fought and defeated, isn't he?"

"He is, but he's much more than that. Evidently, he and Dumbledore knew each other when they were younger. They were friends, in fact."

"You're joking!" Jasmine exclaimed.

"Nope. It's not clear how long they knew each other. I think it was a year or two. It all ended, though, when they had some sort of argument and... well, Professor Dumbledore's sister was killed."

Jasmine gaped in shock, but then her expression abruptly shifted to one of recognition."'It's always the innocents who suffer the most when powerful forces resort to violence to solve their differences.'" she quoted. "Merlin — I thought he was talking about countries going to war!"

"So did I, but apparently he was also talking about personal experience. I'll bet he feels at least partially responsible, regardless of who cast the fatal spell."

"And I'll bet he sees all those violent battles as at least partly an extension of his original disagreement, even if they had nothing to do with him personally," Jasmine added.

"I still can't agree with his desire to completely avoid violence," Hermione said. "But I think I can understand why he might be so reluctant to use it. Especially given how much more destructive he could be, with his skills and experience."

Jasmine looked at her seriously. "That applies at least a little bit to us, too, you know, considering our power. And as we become more skilled and experienced, it will apply even more."

Hermione sighed and nodded before crawling over and pulling Jasmine into an embrace, all thoughts of mind magics practice forgotten.

* * *

 **Wednesday, December 22, 1995, Early Morning.**

"I'm off to work, Molly," Arthur called out from the living room. He was so glad that they were finally back to living in the Burrow. It had taken forever for Bill to get the new wards erected, but it was worth it. _There is no place like home_ , he thought. _Grimmauld Place may be secure, but it isn't comfortable for us. And I know that Molly keeps rubbing Sirius the wrong way, acting like it's her home instead of his._

"Alright, have a good day, dear," Molly said as she exited the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Don't forget that I have guard duty tonight, so I'll be quite late getting back home," Arthur said as he kissed her goodbye before grabbing some floo powder from the mantle. "Not until after midnight, in fact, so don't wait up."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot," Molly said, suddenly looking nervous. "I'll keep some dinner warm for you,"

"If you insist," he replied with an indulgent smile, knowing that she'd wait up no matter what he said. He kissed her again and tossed the floo powder into their fireplace.

* * *

"Look at this," Hermione said before they entered the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Not another one," Neville groaned as he looked up at the wall.

 **Educational Decree Number Ninety-Nine:**

"Students are prohibited from changing their hair colour, eye colour, shoe size or any other physical abnormality by the use of magic."

"That's... bizarre," Ginny said. "What would cause her to even think of banning that? What would be the point?"

"Do you think it's connected to our last Transfiguration lesson?" Neville asked slowly. "Maybe it's a coincidence that she does this almost immediately after a lesson in which we started to learn how to do exactly what's being banned, but..."

"You're right," Hermione agreed. "It's hard to believe that it's a coincidence. And during the lesson, I mentioned to Jasmine how she could use human transfiguration to disguise herself so she could go in public without being stared at."

"You know, I'll bet that 'physical abnormality' was added specifically because of your scar, which means that it was written with you in particular in mind," Ginny observed as they started walking into the Great Hall. "Changing your scar and your hair color would probably cause most people to not recognize you, especially if they don't know you."

"This only applies to Hogwarts," Hermione pointed out, "so she wants to be able to find you more easily here in the castle. She doesn't want you to be able to disappear in a crowd."

"I wonder what she's up to, that she would be thinking of that," Jasmine said with a worried frown.

"I'd like to know who talked to her about that class and what I said to you," Hermione countered. "She wasn't there observing that lesson, so she must have gotten a report of some sort that made her put out that decree the next day."

* * *

 **Wednesday, December 22, 1995, Early Afternoon.**

"Alright everyone," Jasmine announced, getting the attention of all the students who had gathered for that month's mass Defense Association meeting. "This is obviously the last time we'll be able to get together this term. From what the others tell me, you're all doing very well — easily one if not two years ahead of where you'd normally be with most offensive and defensive spells."

This elicited a round of cheering from everyone, forcing Jasmine to wait a few moments before continuing. "I also hear that you're all making a lot of progress with speed and accuracy, which you all know are important. Now, for this final session, we're going to do something a bit different: a spell that won't benefit from speed, accuracy, or much else that you've learned so far. It may, however, save your life."

Everyone except the study group was giving her puzzled looks, but their confusion turned to wonder when she incanted _"_ _ **Expecto Patronum!**_ _"_ A brilliant white stag shot out of her wand and started trotting around the Room of Requirement, filling all of the students with hope, joy, and love. "The most likely way you'll use this spell is against Dementors — and since the Dementors have left Azkaban to join with dark wizards, you're a whole lot more likely to need this than you were even a year ago."

"That spell is hard, though, isn't it?" Michael Corner asked. "Do you think that the rest of us will be able to learn it?"

Jasmine smiled, then looked to each side at members of the study group. As one, they all incanted _"_ _ **Expecto Patronum!**_ _"_ sending out eleven more silvery white animals: a doe, a horse, a bear, a beagle, a mouse, a rabbit, a tiger, a swan, a fox, a raccoon, and a chameleon.

"None of the others here were able to cast a patronus at the start of this term," Jasmine explained to the assembled students, some of whom were having trouble paying attention due to how the room was being filled with such strong, positive feelings. "In fact, none of them could do it a month ago, which is when we all started working on it."

"But... but they have more experience than we do," Corner tried to protest, but Jasmine held up a hand to stop him.

"Like I already said, experience and skill with other spells doesn't help much with this one because it's a bit different from the others. OK, everyone line up facing one of the walls." Once the patronuses had disappeared and the students had arranged themselves, Jasmine explained how this particular spell depended on their ability to focus intensely on a single happy memory.

"Emotions are important with most spells, but few are so completely dependent on emotions like this one," Jasmine told them. "It's especially tough when confronted with a Dementor, which is exactly the situation where you need this spell most; but the more you practice in neutral conditions like we have here now, the easier it will be when a Dementor is trying to suppress all your happy thoughts."

As the students started working on the spell, Jasmine and her friends walked along the lines behind them, giving tips and advice. "If you don't get anything the first couple of times, not even a bit of white mist, it's likely that you aren't using a memory that's happy enough. Try a different one — and keep trying until you start to get something from your wand."

After more than an hour, the mass DA meeting broke up early with a lot of tired but eager and optimistic students. None had succeeded in casting a corporeal patronus, but most had managed at least some mist — even some of the lower years — and a few could see things like paws or wings which gave them hints of what their patronus would eventually be.

"Well," Jasmine said once all the girls were alone, "are you all ready?" The gleam in their eyes was more than answer enough. "Then let's get going!"

* * *

 **Wednesday, December 22, 1995, 3:30PM.**

When the witches all landed with their portkey, they were greeted with an absolutely spectacular sight. It had snowed the night before, and the landscape was covered with a light, downy blanket of fluffy snow. In the distance were two mountains, both of which were also covered with snow. Closer by, Jasmine could see some sheep nosing around in the snow, looking for something to eat. It was incredibly quiet except for the sound of her own breathing, and she found it amazingly peaceful.

"This is so beautiful," Tracey whispered. "Where are we?"

"We are in Cumbria now," Fleur announced softly. "Zose are the Helvellyn and Blencathra mountains in the background, and zis is Castlerigg, an ancient magical site zat is over five thousand years old." When Jasmine focused on the stone circle, she saw several dozen veela gathered around. Some were preparing a central fire while others were setting up large candles and incense sticks on the forty or so large stones that made up the circle.

Like last time, there were heavily armed goblins waiting nearby with a cloaked figure at the center of their group. Jasmine and Hermione thought it polite to give a short bow to the goblins before they were drawn away by Fleur.

"We need to hurry," she told them. "Ze sun will set shortly, and twilight will not last long after zat — not with zese mountains."

* * *

Arthur Weasley signed the last of his parchment work for the day and cleaned up his desk, then stood and stretched. It had been an especially long and grueling day, despite the fact that he was quitting early. He longed to be able to go home, where he could put his feet up and rest, but he had an eight-hour shift of guard duty ahead of him down in the Department of Mysteries.

 _Should I have a cup of tea to help me wake up a bit?_ he wondered. _Nah, I'll be fine,_ he decided, _and someone might smell the tea if I take it with me._

After checking his pocket to make sure he still had the invisibility cloak he'd borrowed from Mad-Eye, he waved his wand to turn off the lights in his office and headed for the lifts. _I can't wait to get home and finally eat dinner_ , he thought as he hit the button for level nine. _Maybe I should have had a snack earlier?_

As the lift was descending, it stopped to let on Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Arthur," he said with a nod as he hit a button for a different floor. Once the lift started moving, he continued in a much softer voice, "I'm glad I caught you. A raid has been planned for late tonight, and I probably won't be able to come in at my scheduled time. I'll try to get here as soon as I can, but I'm going out now to contact Dung to get him to relieve you, just in case. He'll probably be late, though, so will you be OK staying a bit longer?"

 _Merlin_ , Arthur thought dejectedly, _I definitely should have gotten a snack earlier!_

"Of course," he answered aloud. "But could you send a message to Molly letting her know? She's expecting me back after midnight, and she'll worry terribly if she doesn't know I'll be late. Just... just tell her to go to bed, and I'll get home when I can."

"Of course. And thanks," Shacklebolt whispered. "I'm sorry to put you in this situation, but the orders only just came in, and I don't know of anyone other than Dung who can substitute."

"It's not a problem at all," Arthur answered, desperately stifling a yawn. "These things happen."

When they arrived at Shacklebolt's floor, the tall auror nodded again and exited, leaving Arthur alone once more.

* * *

The Hogwarts witches were all quickly adorned with crowns made from mistletoe and holly, then they took places around the fire that had been set up in the center of the circle. Adrienne and Celeste stood to the side next to an altar with candles, two large goddess statues, and decorations of evergreen branches, holly, and mistletoe. The air was still, but Jasmine could easily smell the frankincense and cinnamon of the incense.

Adrienne raised her hands in front of the assembled witches and began to speak. "Tonight we celebrate Yule, the night of the Winter Solstice. Winter is fully upon us, and darkness reigns across the land. We have endured as our days have grown shorter while our nights have grown longer and colder. On this, the longest night of the year, we recognize the power of darkness in our lives. We accept that the sun and the light cannot always remain ascendant."

As she said this, the sun disappeared behind the distant mountains and the light started dwindling fast. All around Castlerigg the wind began to blow, picking up the snow and swirling it around the stone circle. At the same time, multicolored motes of magical energy rose up out of the ground and danced about within the circle.

"But we do not falter on our journey!" Adrienne continued, "We recognize that the dark and the cold will always come to our land, but we also know that even in the darkest hours, there is still the light of hope. Even in the bitterest cold, there is still the warmth of love. Yes, even on this, the longest night of the year, there will also be a dawn."

All around them, the candles lit on their own, creating dancing shadows throughout the circle as the light of the sun continued to wane. Adrienne turned to one of the goddess statues and lit the candle on the altar closest to it. Instead of having the typical yellow flame, the candle's flame was bright blue.

"Hear us Thesan, goddess of the dawn and herald of the future! Illuminate the path before us by chasing away the darkness and shadows. Shepherd us into the new day of life and love. Fill your vessel with your power and knowledge so that all your children can find the way!"

Joined by pulses of energy from the circle of witches, the motes of magical energy that had been dancing around inside the circle began to slowly drift inwards towards the fire, and everyone noticed that the energy swirling around and exiting Hermione was blue. Outside the circle, the snow circling the Castlerigg stones was moving so fast that it was no longer possible to see the surrounding countryside. Only the small contingent of goblins was still visible, and they were far less nervous than they had been the previous time.

It was now Celeste's turn to speak. "Tomorrow the sun will return to us, and with the sun comes light and life. The nights will gradually grow shorter and the days will grow longer, blessing us all with warmth and hope. Even though so much of the land lies dormant under the blanket of cold and darkness, we can still find islands of life and light, fighting to hold back the dark while so much more sleeps beneath the surface, waiting for the right time to rise up so that it can burst forth once again."

Celeste lit the candle next to the second goddess statue, this time creating a green flame. The energy coming from both the ground and the circle of witches started moving faster towards the central fire, causing it to rise higher and higher into the sky.

"Hear us, Sekhmet, lioness goddess of the sun and of warriors! Protect us from those who wish us harm and shine the light of the sun upon us so that we may enjoy the bounties of the earth! Fill your vessel with your power and ferocity so that all your children can be protected against evil!"

The energy exiting and swirling around Jasmine was now green as the motes of magical energy rushed faster and faster into the fire at the center of the circle. Outside the Castlerigg stones, the howling wind was loud enough to be deafening, but the witches inside the circle were too preoccupied with the drain on their energy to notice. Several of the Hogwarts witches, being the youngest, started to sway, but they quickly put their arms out to their sides in an attempt to maintain their balance.

"Light, life, and love will return to the earth, as they always have, and we must gather our strength so that we can persevere until spring arrives. Standing firm against the remaining cold and dark while the days slowly grow longer will not be easy, but we have the blessings of the goddesses — their power will guide us and protect us once again."

As with Samhain, the flames collapsed down into the central fire and a wave of magical energy burst forth, this time mixing with the snow. Together they spread first across all of Cumbria, then blanketed Northumberland, Durham, Dumfries and Galloway, and the Scottish Borders in the north, and Lancashire, North Yorkshire, Cheshire, and Derbyshire in the east and south. Most of those counties hadn't received any snowfall for the past few weeks, nor had any been forecast; but when people woke up the next morning they would find everything covered in a soft blanket of pure white snow.

Almost everyone had the same reaction, too, immediately calling the sight "magical."

Everyone except the meteorologists, who would be scratching their heads for weeks trying to figure out where the sudden snow storm had come from and why it had dumped several inches of snow on just those counties.

* * *

In Wiltshire, far from the effects of the magical ritual in Cumbria, the residents of Malfoy Manor went about their evening as normal, not the least bit aware of anything changing in the world around them.

It was the calm before the storm.

* * *

 **Wednesday, December 23, 1995, 2:00AM.**

Arthur Weasley sat down on the floor outside the Prophecy room and leaned back against the wall. After adjusting his invisibility cloak to ensure that it still covered him, he closed his eyes and yawned. _Merlin_ , he thought, _I could use that tea about now! That raid is taking a lot longer than Shack thought it would, and of course Dung never showed up. At this rate, it won't even be worth going home and getting into bed. Might as well shower, change, and come back into the office. Molly will be fit to be tied when she finds out how late I'm doing this._

He never noticed himself drifting off to sleep, nor did he notice the door at the far end of the corridor silently opening an hour later.

* * *

 **Thursday, December 23, 1995, 7:30AM.**

"Everyone up," Celeste whispered. "Twilight will arrive shortly, and sunrise will be in only another hour."

All of the participants had stayed overnight in order to witness the rising of the sun, though the goblins had remained steadfastly outside the circle. Most had expected that they would want to sleep, but the wave of magic which had hit them provided so much energy before it spread across northern England and southern Scotland that no one felt the least bit tired. Instead of sleeping, they spent most of the night talking, sharing stories, and tending the central fire which had been kept just high enough to cast enough light to see each other by. By the time Adrienne started getting everyone moving, the Hogwarts witches and the veela had all come to know each other much better.

For the first time, Areto and Phoebe had opened up about being Amazzi and what that meant — something only made possible by the two members of the Theledrion present, Adrienne and Celeste, giving permission. This led to a long series of tales about the true history of the Amazzi, their training, and some of the less secret missions they'd been on. The Hogwarts witches were all completely enthralled by what they heard and wished it could have lasted longer. Fortunately Adrienne promised to make time for such conversations around future rituals.

The witches all shared a communal meal of bread, cheese, and fruit — partly for the community aspect, and partly because the Hogwarts witches would be extremely short on time once they returned to the castle, so they hoped to skip breakfast in the Great Hall and go straight to class.

Twilight was making it increasingly easy to see, and soon everyone was gathered around the much smaller central fire to listen to Adrienne speak.

"The darkness flees before the sun, but it is not defeated. The light grows in power, but it is not yet strong enough to completely overcome the dark. That is why we are here, to call forth the sun and to follow its light so that we can participate in the eventual defeat of the cold and the dark."

As she said this, the central fire rose up once more and the half-burned candles from the previous night, still sitting on the surrounding stones, lit themselves again. All of this transformed the stone circle into a bright beacon in the shadowed Cumbrian hills. The witches watched as the sky gradually lightened, and soon the sun broke over the mountains in the west, bathing the entire area in bright light.

"Have hope!" Celeste called out. "The longest night of the year has passed and we have endured, as we shall always endure the cold and the dark when we are supported by our sisters. Take the love and light of our coven with you when you leave and spread it across the land. Show others the way and let them know that when we stand together, victory is assured."

With those last words, the central fire collapsed again, this time going out completely, and all of the witches felt a rush of energy. The magical energy which had made it possible to stay up talking all night had mostly worn off, but this new, smaller wave of energy instantly made them all awake and aware again.

As they began preparing to leave, a glint of metal near the outer stones caught the eye of more than one of the remaining witches. Upon examination, they found six small boxes wrapped in cloth shot with gleaming gold. Each had a name on it: Jasmine, Hermione, Aella, Diantha, Lufey, and Winny.

"Where did these come from?" Apolline asked. "We were all awake last night. No one could have gotten close enough to leave them, especially with several Amazzi here!"

"Maybe the goblins?" Adrienne suggested.

"I can't imagine any of them leaving us gifts like this, especially secretly," Celeste said, "but I'll go ask them while you find out if anyone knows anything — like maybe who those four names are. The first two could be veela, but the second two are unlike anything I've heard of before."

Celeste headed towards the goblins and was met halfway by Sharpaxe. Meanwhile, Adrienne called out to all the veela cleaning up or waiting to leave, "Six packages were left here overnight — someone got close enough to leave them at the bases of the stones. We've identified two recipients, but the other four are a mystery. Does anyone know anyone with the names Aella, Diantha, Lufey, or Winny?"

There was a gasp from the back, and in a moment Phoebe and Areto made their way forward. "Did... did you say Aella and Diantha?" Phoebe asked. Adrienne held up the gold-wrapped packages, and the two Amazzi went white as a sheet.

"They are the names of our daughters," Areto said softly. "We only decided on those names just before the trip here. We... we haven't told _anyone_ yet."

Shocked whispers started spreading through the crowd as Celeste returned. "That goblin warrior said that he doesn't know anyone by those names, but he's going to ask..."

"It looks like someone knows something," Hermione interrupted, pointing to where the entire group of goblins was approaching, all following the mysterious cloaked figure.

"May we see the names as they are written?" Sharpaxe asked immediately.

"We think we've identified two of them," Celeste responded.

"Here are the other two," Apolline said, holding out the last two packages.

The cloaked figure gasped in surprise and reached up to pull back the concealing hood. Sharpaxe tried to intervene, but the figure clearly held authority over him. "No, it's time," came a surprisingly soft voice as the hood fell, revealing a distinctly feminine goblin.

"High Priestess Lufestre!" exclaimed Adrienne. "We... I... I had no idea that you would be here."

"Nor were you supposed to," she said gravely. "Only a very, very few goblins know of my presence here, and none of them would ever betray that information. Nor would any of them leave me or any of you anonymous gifts."

"So... you're Lufey?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," the female goblin said a bit sternly. "But that is a childhood nickname which only a few know about — and even fewer are permitted to use."

Hermione gulped. "I... I'm sorry, ma'am. Er, I mean, uh, High Priestess, ma'am."

Jasmine looked at the goblin with the eyepatch. "And are you Win... er, I mean, is this other one for you?"

"No," Lufestre said emphatically. "I know who that is for, and they are not here. That particular nickname is known and used by even fewer goblins. What I'd like to know is how these two names came to be on packages that appeared here overnight."

"There's more mystery than you realize," Adrienne said. "The other two we didn't recognize at first, Aella and Diantha, are the names of the unborn daughters of these two warriors. The girls were conceived last Beltane, and their mothers only named them a few days ago. No one but the mothers knew those names."

"No one saw or heard anything here last night?" Sharpaxe asked, looking increasingly disturbed.

"No," Apolline answered. "We had hoped that you might be responsible." Sharpaxe frowned deeply, so Apolline quickly added, "I would prefer to think that one or two of you had been able to sneak up on us rather than the alternative: that some unknown person or persons managed to avoid detection by your guards _and_ us as well."

Sharpaxe's frown immediately deepened as all of the guards — goblin and veela alike — started looking outward warily.

"Why don't we open them?" Jasmine suggested. "Cast your best detection charms, and if they're clean, we open them. Maybe that will tell us something?"

"We can't delay much longer," Minerva said. "It's getting late — morning classes will start soon."

"Very well," Adrienne said, and they all began casting a wide variety of detection charms. When nothing was found, Jasmine and Hermione unwrapped theirs first. The gold cloth was pulled away to reveal small wooden boxes, each containing a wide bracelet made of silver metal with a rainbow sheen. In the middle of the bracelets was a raised circular design with a blue topaz in the center of Hermione's and a green peridot adorning Jasmine's.

"That looks rather like Hekate's Circle," Adrienne observed, "but it's not quite the same."

"It's a much older form of that symbol," Lufestre responded. "It represents a labyrinth, but instead of angular walls, the sides are serpentine, representing Hekate's relationship with snakes."

"They're beautiful," remarked Hermione as she made to put hers on.

"Just a moment," Minerva said, stopping her. "Let's check these for curses as well." Once again the detection charms were cast, and the bracelets were pronounced clean.

Phoebe and Areto were next: inside each of their wooden boxes was a small, round, shield-shaped pendant made from the same silvery metal as the bracelets. Aella, who was being carried by Phoebe, had been gifted with a shield pendant showing two axes. Diantha, carried by Areto, received a similar shield with a detailed image of a white flower.

"That looks an awful lot like a Jasmine flower," observed Hannah. When others looked at her strangely, she said a bit defensively, "What? I specialize in herbology."

"I think it might be," responded Areto. "And it would be fitting. Diantha means 'divine flower' — we named her in honor of Jasmine."

As Jasmine blushed furiously, Phoebe added, "And Aella is an ancient Amazzi name which means 'whirlwind.' We named her in honor of Hermione because the god Hermes is associated with speed." This caused Hermione to turn just as red.

"I... I don't know what to say," Jasmine stammered.

"I'm afraid that you're going to have to say goodbye," Minerva cut in firmly. "We're already running late."

"I should open mine along with... the other recipient," Lufestre said. "I will send word to you, Adrienne, about the contents of our packages. Maybe we will be able to figure out who gave us these precious objects. And why."

Everyone immediately began their farewells, which took substantially longer than Minerva might have preferred because the two groups of witches, French and British, had grown quite a bit closer overnight. Finally she and Fleur managed to pull their students away and activate their portkey, dropping them in a quiet alley near Honeydukes. Because it was so late, the store was open, and with several strong disillusionment charms they were all able to sneak into the basement and through the secret passage into Hogwarts.

* * *

 **Thursday, December 23, 1995, 8:00AM.**

"I don't know what you're talking about! There's no way—"

"Sweet Merlin! Who's that on the floor?"

"The hair... is that Weasley?"

"I think it is... yes, it is!"

"I don't think he's breathing..."

"Someone call a healer! Call the aurors!"


	31. I'll Be Home for Christmas

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original.

I was asked in a review of my other ongoing story, _Iris Potter and the Exile from Asgard_ (you are reading that one, too, right?) if I enjoy and read your reviews. The answer is yes! Absolutely! I love to see what people think of the story as it progresses, including guesses about what's coming. I can also say that Bonnie loves seeing your reviews at least as much as I do — she spends about as much time editing each chapter as I did originally writing it, so she arguably has as much invested in people enjoying this as I do.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "The Lion's Pride" by SilentlyWatches. Rufus Scrimgeour tends to be regarded poorly, especially in the context of how he treated Harry Potter. But we only have Harry's perspective on their interactions — what was Scrimgeour's? Maybe teenaged Harry didn't know everything.

* * *

 **Chapter 31 - I'll Be Home for Christmas**

 **Thursday, December 23, 1995, Noon.**

"Hey, have either of you seen Ginny?" Neville asked as he sat across from Jasmine and Hermione.

"No," Jasmine answered, "but we only got here a few minutes ago. Why?"

"We usually meet outside the Great Hall before coming in for lunch," Neville said. "I thought maybe she forgot and simply came right in, but... I'm not sure what happened."

"Hey, there's Luna, let's ask her," Hermione said, waving at the blonde Ravenclaw who had just walked into the Great Hall.

"Have you had any classes with Ginny today?" Hermione asked as Luna sat down.

"No, why?" Luna responded.

"We were going to have lunch together, like we usually do," Neville said, "but I haven't seen her."

"Maybe she had to stay after to talk to a professor?" Jasmine suggested.

"But where are the other Weasleys, then?" Luna asked. The others looked around and realized that she was right: none of Ginny's brothers were at the table either.

"Ron was in Potions," Neville pointed out, "and we had that last before lunch. Snape didn't keep him."

"Ron never misses a meal," Jasmine said, "and he's never gotten lost on his way to the Great Hall."

The rest of lunch was eaten mostly in silence as the four students kept looking around, hoping that one of the Weasleys would show up and solve the mystery.

* * *

 **Thursday, December 23, 1995, Evening.**

When the four met again for dinner, they were joined by Parvati and Lavender, and still no one had seen any sign of the Weasleys. "Ron wasn't at History of Magic class," Hermione said.

"And he never misses nap time," Jasmine added, earning her a snort from Neville and an elbow from Hermione.

"All kidding aside, I'm a bit worried now," Neville admitted. "Something has to be wrong for all four of them to be missing like this."

"I saw Ginny in the common room this morning," Parvati said, "and she seemed fine."

"The twins looked like their usual selves, too," Lavender said.

"You know who else is missing?" Luna asked. "Most of the senior staff — Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick weren't here for lunch and now aren't here for dinner, either. The first isn't unusual, but all three missing dinner is."

"I suppose it could be a coincidence, but..." Neville let his statement trail off, and no one contradicted his unstated conclusion.

Just then, Professor McGonagall entered the Great Hall. Upon spotting her two favorite students, she quickly headed straight for them. "I'd like the two of you to come see me in my office when you're finished with your dinner," she said.

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione began, "do you know where—"

"Not now," McGonagall interrupted. "Just finish your dinner and we'll talk later." She then exited the Great Hall again without stopping to eat herself.

Now everyone exchanged worried looks. "What do you think it is?" Parvati asked.

"It definitely can't be good," Neville said.

"We won't know until we go see her," Jasmine said as she started wolfing her food.

"Do you think it's about the missing Weasleys?" Parvati asked.

"Maybe, but that seems unlikely," Luna responded. "She was upset about something, and there were a lot of wrackspurts around her head."

"Wrackspurts?" Lavender said in confusion.

 _Don't ask,_ Hermione mouthed as she started rushing through her own meal as well.

* * *

"Good, I'm glad you didn't take too long," McGonagall said as they entered her office. "Though I'm sorry to have interrupted your meal."

"What's going on? What's the problem?" Jasmine asked as they sat in the chairs in front of her desk.

"I expect you noticed the absence of the Weasleys?" McGonagall responded. "Late this morning they were all given permission to leave Hogwarts early for a family emergency. Arthur was severely injured late last night. He was doing something important for the Order — and no, I can't tell you what."

"How badly is he hurt?" Hermione asked in a near whisper.

"It's... it's serious," McGonagall answered, her voice coming close to cracking. "Part of the problem is that he wasn't found until this morning. He was supposed to be relieved by someone else around midnight, but they never showed up. There was an altercation in Knockturn Alley, and his replacement was sent to St. Mungo's. Had he been reached in time, perhaps his prognosis would be better, but as it is..."

"So... you don't think he'll make it?" Jasmine said as tears welled in her eyes.

"We should never give up hope," McGonagall insisted, "but from what little I heard... well, I think you should prepare yourselves for the worst."

"Can we tell the others?" Hermione asked. "Neville is dating Ginny, and I think he'd want to know."

McGonagall considered that. "You can tell the others that Mr. Weasley was injured and that his children left school early because of it. But if Mr. Longbottom really is that close to Miss Weasley, she might benefit from his support. So you can tell him the seriousness of Mr. Weasley's condition, but leave out anything about the Order."

The two younger witches just nodded, too overcome with emotion to say anything.

* * *

"Well?" Voldemort demanded.

"My Lord," Rookwood responded, bowing low, "Our distractions in Knockturn Alley proved most effective. Your servants were able to tie up a large number of Aurors and Hit Wizards for most of the night. Some of our enemies were even injured quite severely."

Voldemort nodded, pleased that that much had gone well, at least. He gestured for the man to continue.

"I have spent all day going over the information I collected, and I'm afraid that if anything, the security on the prophecy spheres in the Department of Mysteries is even stronger than when I worked there."

Voldemort's good mood immediately evaporated, but he refrained from cursing Rookwood yet. "So there's no way around the protections? Only those mentioned in the prophecy can remove a sphere without going insane?"

"No easy way around the protections, my Lord," Rookwood answered. "It is probably possible to unravel the spells on a single sphere, even though they are tied to the protections on all other spheres on the same shelf. However, such an approach will take quite a bit of time as well as skill."

"And the more time it takes, the greater the chances of being caught," Voldemort concluded in annoyance. "When can you start?"

"I already have, My Lord," Rookwood replied. "I anticipated that I would not be able to bring you good news, and it occurred to me that regardless of what decision you made, starting to unravel the protective spells would not interfere. And if for some reason you objected, I could always go back to fix things."

Voldemort smiled, now glad that he hadn't cursed this servant after all. "Very good, Rookwood. Very good indeed. You have done well and shown good initiative."

"Thank you, my Lord," Rookwood said, unable to hide the relief in his voice.

"Unfortunately, there remains one significant error in your mission last night," Voldemort continued.

"My Lord?" Rookwood responded, his relief now edging into fear.

"The blood traitor you encountered guarding the door," Voldemort explained. "My spies tell me that he lives, though he hasn't woken up yet. If he does wake, he might be able to report on you."

"My Lord," Rookwood said in a pleading tone, "He never saw my face — I can guarantee that. I didn't use the killing curse because that would have set off alarms. Instead, I used a combination of lower-level hexes and curses that would cause significant pain and eventually kill — all spells that are minor enough to be ignored by the Ministry protections. I knew it was a risk, but I deemed it more important to have as much time as possible to analyze the prophecy sphere."

Voldemort nodded slowly. "Very well — perhaps you did make the right decision. But so long as the blood traitor survives, he is a potential threat to Our efforts in the prophecy room. You should consider doing something about him to ensure that the threat he poses is not actualized."

Rookwood bowed even lower as he backed out of the throne room, and Voldemort frowned, now wishing that he'd had an excuse to curse the man. _We miss Wormtail,_ he thought, _and Narcissa was on her way to becoming such a delicious replacement. We need to decide on who to use next._

* * *

 **Friday, December 24, 1995, Afternoon.**

"You're excited about spending Christmas with Sirius, aren't you?" Hermione said about halfway into the trip back to London.

"You could tell?" Jasmine asked curiously.

"Sure," Hermione answered. "In the past, you've never looked happy when we've taken the train home, and the unhappy expression would only grow worse the closer to London we got. Now, though, it's the opposite."

Jasmine smiled. "It is different, isn't it? Though, I'm going to miss you something awful."

"Yeah, I'll miss you, too," Hermione replied, leaving so many more things unsaid because of who else was in the compartment with them. "But I'll be back before the hols are over."

"Where are you going to spend the holiday?" Daphne asked as she turned to Gabrielle. "I'd have thought you would stay in the castle with your sister."

"I will stay here in London," she answered. "I zink Fleur is going home to France."

"Not with family?" Tracey asked.

"Non, I will be with friends," Gabrielle said as she looked at Jasmine and smiled, earning curious looks from the three Slytherins.

"Gabrielle wanted to experience a British Christmas," Jasmine tried to explain. "I encouraged her to spend it with her family, but since she doesn't know if she'll be at Hogwarts next year or not, she wants to experience what she can while she's here."

"Oh, well, that makes sense," Tracey said. "But I think I'd miss my family terribly if I couldn't spend Christmas with them."

"How is everyone's Patronus coming along?" Jasmine asked, trying to change the subject.

"Well enough," Daphne answered. "The three of us are all getting stronger with it, and several of the younger Slytherins are getting a strong mist."

"You three still feel safe in the dungeon, right?" Hermione asked.

Daphne nodded. "I think we'd be in danger if we let our guard down, but they can tell that we're cautious, and they know that we are stronger than the rest of them. Since they don't trust each other enough to all band together to go after us — which would give us trouble — I don't think we have to worry much."

"Good. Remember to say something if it gets worse," Jasmine insisted. "I know it's important for you to handle such things on your own in order to not appear weak, but you don't _have_ to handle it on your own if you think you can't."

"Why do you think we're riding with you?" Tracey asked with a smirk. "Didn't you notice how many Slytherins have walked by this compartment so far?" When the three Gryffindors simply looked confused, Tracey went on, "Sitting with you like this is a step beyond simply studying with you. The latter can be justified by a desire to get better grades and is more readily accepted than purely social interaction like what we're doing now. Even helping to organize support for you last year fits in with impersonal politics. But not choosing to sit with you over and above sitting with our own housemates."

"There is some risk involved, because we're announcing a more personal association with you," Daphne added, "but at the same time, everyone will see that the association goes both ways. People know how you defend your friends, so they'll know that anyone who makes trouble for us will end up dealing with you."

"So in their eyes, you're more isolated if you're merely our study partners," Hermione said, "but by announcing that our relationship is more than that, you implicitly get our protection."

"And without having to fight," Jasmine concluded. She shook her head. "I'm so glad that I argued the Sorting Hat into not putting me in Slytherin. Such convoluted schemes would give me a headache."

"Wait, what?" Daphne asked, her smug smile shifting immediately into an expression of surprise. "The hat wanted you for our house?"

"Oh, yeah, didn't I ever mention that?" Jasmine replied. "It said that I could be great in Slytherin. I guess I'm not sure how serious it was about putting me there, but it sounded serious enough. After having had two encounters with Malfoy, though, I wanted to stay as far away from him as possible, so I kept chanting 'Not Slytherin' in my head." Jasmine's expression turned apologetic as she said, "Also, I have to admit that both Hagrid and Ron got me to think that Slytherin was full of dark wizards and witches. I know now that it's not true, but I guess I wouldn't have been too keen on Slytherin even without Malfoy."

The three Slytherin students were more than a bit shocked at that revelation. "If Malfoy weren't already gone, I'd hex him so bad he'd be begging to withdraw from Hogwarts," Tracey growled. "If you had been sorted into our house and started asserting yourself early, it might have made a big difference — both for those of us inside and for how we're perceived by outsiders."

Jasmine shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Back then I had a lot less self-confidence. From what you've said about how things work in Slytherin, I suspect that I might have tried to hide in a dark corner. I guess it's possible that such a place might have pushed me to assert myself sooner, but it's hard for me to see how."

Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise reluctantly conceded the point, but they still looked upset.

"Don't tell me — you're going to find a way to use that information, aren't you?" Hermione asked.

"You don't mind, do you?" Daphne asked, and Jasmine shook her head. "Then if the right opportunity presents itself, that revelation might prove useful. Lots of people in Slytherin were predisposed to disliking Jasmine not only because of her role in the defeat of You-Know-Who, but also her parents' roles in fighting him. However, many in the house respect power, regardless of ideology, and it was always assumed that you were a powerful witch. So you'd have been given a chance to prove yourself, if nothing else."

"And now you have," Tracey added. "So a lot of the old animosity is starting to make way for some respect. They won't start liking you any time soon (if ever), but they'll respect you, which means they'll work with you if you can show that it's in their interests. Knowing not only that the hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, but also that you had a strong enough mind and personality to convince it otherwise, will earn you a bit more respect."

"Like I said," Jasmine responded with a sigh, "that sort of thinking would give me a headache."

"Understandable," Daphne said with a teasing smile. "You're much better off as a rash, simple-minded Gryffindor."

* * *

"Mio C _ucciolo!_ There you are!"

The three Gryffindors noticed that all three Slytherins reacted to that shouted greeting — Daphne and Tracey with smirks and Blaise with a grimace. The reason became quickly evident when a familiar and beautiful woman emerged from the crowd, a hint of expensive perfume preceding her. She immediately embraced Blaise, kissing him several times and fussing over him in a manner that clearly made him uncomfortable. "I'm _so_ glad you're finally home," she gushed. "We all missed you at Yule, but at least we'll have Christmas together!"

"Daphne, Tracey, it's good to see you again," the woman said once she seemed to be done with her son. "And who are your three friends here?" Trying not to look too embarrassed (and not entirely succeeding), Blaise introduced his mother to Jasmine, Hermione, and Gabrielle.

"It is so good to finally meet you, _mia_ _cara_ ," she said as she took Jasmine's hands in her own and gave her a frankly appraising look. Jasmine was a little surprised that the woman's eyes didn't shoot up to her infamous scar, though.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Zabini," Jasmine replied formally. "I've been happy to have found a friend in Blaise over the past few months."

Before the older witch could say anything else, Sirius walked up with Tonks and Lupin close behind. "Hey, kitten!" he said, laying a hand protectively on her shoulder before turning to Alessandra. "And you are?" he said peremptorily, clearly suspicious of any stranger getting so close to his goddaughter.

The Italian witch didn't take offense, however, smiling as she replied, "I'm Alessandra Zabini, Blaise's mother. He's told me so much about her, and I've been looking forward to meeting his new friends."

"Ah. Well, I'm Sirius Black, Jasmine's godfather," he said in a more congenial tone as he took her hand and bowed over it, giving it a light kiss. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The infamous Sirius Black! The pictures in the _Daily Prophet_ do not do you justice — you are far more handsome in person. No, the pleasure is all mine, Signor Black," Alessandra said as she delicately placed a hand on Jasmine's shoulder. "I cannot thank Miss Potter enough for helping _il passerotto mio_. Blaise is so important to me, and I know he has learned much during his short friendship with your goddaughter."

"Well, Jasmine has always been good to her friends," Sirius responded. "I can't take credit for that, though. Her parents were the same way."

Alessandra beamed as she turned back to Jasmine and gently touched her cheek. "Thank you for all you have done, mia cara. I hope to see you again." She then turned back to Sirius and said, "And it was especially nice to meet _you_ , Signor Black. I hope to see you again as well." She gave Sirius a seductive smile and wink before taking Blaise's hand and leading him away, her hips swaying provocatively under her close-fitting skirt.

The two Slytherin witches also said goodbye before leaving with their families, and the remaining Gryffindors began walking out towards the barrier that led to muggle King's Cross.

"How are we getting home?" Jasmine asked, feeling pleased to be able to refer to Sirius' house as "home." Judging by the look on his face, he felt the same way.

"We're going to walk," he answered. "It isn't that far."

"Ms. Zabini seemed quite taken with you," Tonks observed, giving her cousin a nudge. "I'm surprised you didn't take the time to set up a date."

"He used to be more on the ball," Remus chimed in. "Getting slow in your old age, Padfoot?"

Sirius snorted. "She is a beautiful witch, I'll grant you that; but I like living, thank you very much. I'm not going to get involved with someone who's likely to off me in a couple of years."

Jasmine and Hermione exchanged a significant look before Hermione said, "You shouldn't believe all the rumors so easily."

"Oh?" Sirius asked. "Do you know something I don't?"

"Quite a lot, I'm sure," Jasmine shot back with a grin, earning her a chuckle from Tonks and Remus. "But on this specifically? Definitely."

"We can't say more because we were told things in confidence," Hermione added. "But if, for the sake of argument, if you aren't at risk for getting poisoned, cursed, or otherwise assassinated in your sleep like the rumors say, would you be amenable? We wouldn't want to make inquiries if you're not interested in the first place."

Sirius didn't respond with the expected quip; instead, he kept walking with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"I think you should give it a shot," Remus said encouragingly as the silence lengthened. "You don't get many chances to meet other women, after all. And you especially don't encounter many women who wouldn't hold a grudge against you for some of the things you did in school."

"And she's not even a cousin!" Tonks pointed out. "That's an awfully big advantage among British purebloods."

Finally, Sirius nodded. "Yes, I think I might. At least, I'd try a few casual dates to see whether there's any chemistry there. She's beautiful, cultured, friendly, beautiful, she seems to like you, kitten... yeah, there's enough there to make a casual date or two worthwhile."

"Then we'll look into it," Jasmine said, "but it won't be until after next term starts."

"No problem," Sirius responded. "That gives me time to learn a little Italian and brush up on my table manners."

* * *

"Surprise!"

Sirius had been right: the walk from King's Cross to Grimmauld Place wasn't long; yet none of the young witches would remember a second of it because as soon as they walked in the door, they were surprised by the presence of a large group of relatives from France: the Grangers, Fleur, Apolline, Sybine, and Adrienne.

"Mum, Dad, I didn't know you were coming!" Hermione cried as she leapt into a three-way hug with her parents. "I missed you so much!"

"Maman!" Gabrielle cried out herself, pulling Apolline into an embrace that was quickly joined by Fleur and Adrienne.

" _Please_ tell me that they aren't all visiting for the evening, then heading back to France?" Jasmine said to Sirius.

"No worries," Sirius replied with a broad smile. "They're all staying for the full holiday. Given how close you all are, I thought it would be nice for you to all spend it together instead of pining away for each other, making yourselves miserable."

"Thanks, Sirius!" Jasmine exclaimed as she squeezed her godfather tightly. It wasn't long before she was being hugged and greeted by everyone else as well — something that Jasmine still had a little trouble with, though she was getting used to it — and found that she enjoyed it.

* * *

 **Friday, December 24, 1995, Evening.**

Christmas Eve was spent with everyone packed in the sitting room, drinking hot cocoa and catching up as they shared stories that hadn't made it into letters. Gabrielle and Fleur sat on either side of Apolline and Sybine, leaning in close while Adrienne sat in a chair next to them.

Instead of sitting between her parents as she once would have done, Hermione sat on a couch with her parents on one side and Jasmine on the other — thus conveniently forcing her and Jasmine to squish close together in order to make enough room. Sirius and Remus sat on separate chairs, with one wondering why the two witches had arranged themselves like that and the other knowing full well why, but not saying anything.

It was a mostly happy evening, though no one was able to completely ignore the fact that someone dear to them was currently in St. Mungo's, fighting for his life, and that his family was spending this Christmas holiday agonizing over what had happened rather than celebrating.

"I assume you haven't learned anything new about Mr. Weasley?" Hermione asked Sirius early in the evening.

"Only that he hasn't woken up yet," Sirius answered. "I still haven't even heard what exactly was done to him — only that it was serious and life-threatening."

"I feel so sorry for him," Emma said. "He seemed like such a nice man, if a bit eccentric."

"He's not the most eccentric witch or wizard I've met," Remus said, "not by a long shot; but he's easily one of the nicest. It's little wonder that he has such a nice family."

"Do you think we'll be able to go visit at any point?" Jasmine asked. "Even if he hasn't woken up, I'd like to show my support somehow."

"Tonks said she'd stop by tomorrow before coming over here," Sirius said. "As an auror and a member of the Order, she can get away with doing that. I'll ask her what she thinks. Maybe we can arrange something on Boxing Day."

"That would be great," Jasmine replied. "I don't want to intrude or anything, but I also don't want to stay completely away."

"I think they'd like that," Sirius said. "You have a long holiday this year, so I'm sure we'll be able to find the time at some point."

* * *

"While your mother gets changed for our traditional dinner out, why don't you tell me about what you've been learning this term?" Karl Greengrass said as he sat in a chair by the fireplace in his lounge.

"You mean what I've learned in my classes, or in my... extracurricular activities?" Daphne asked.

Karl snorted. "I already know what Hogwarts classes teach. I'm more interested in whether your other activities are worth all of the time you say you're investing in them. There are other things you could be doing while still maintaining a connection to Miss Potter and her group."

Daphne smirked slightly, knowing that her father continued to be more than a bit skeptical of her decision to so closely align herself with Jasmine. _Unfortunately, I can't tell the whole truth of how important what I'm doing is, or the full extent of the benefits I'm getting_ , she lamented. _I can, however, put to rest any concerns he might have about whether I'm learning anything useful._

She pulled out her wand and looked inquiringly at him. "I assume that with the full defenses active on the house now, underage magic will be masked?" When her father nodded, she cried, _"_ _ **Expecto Patronum!**_ _"_ A well-defined, silvery-white fox burst forth and started bounding around the room, looking for threats.

Her father quite predictably jumped out of his chair in surprise, then gazed in wonder at the patronus his daughter had created. "My word," he whispered. "Even I can't produce a fully corporeal patronus. No one your age should be able to. I don't think there's anything else you could have done that would have impressed me more."

With a sly grin, Daphne knelt down and whispered to the fox, which immediately sped through the closed door and out of the room. "Wha...?" her father tried to ask.

A minute later, her mother came running into the lounge, wearing her bathrobe and with only half her makeup done. "Karl, Daphne, what's going on? Some sort of fox that looked... well, looked like a patronus jumped up on my makeup table and insisted that I come down to the lounge immediately! What's more, it spoke with Daphne's voice!"

Daphne's father dropped heavily into his chair and took a long pull from his whiskey.

* * *

 **Saturday, December 25, 1995, Christmas Morning.**

Christmas was a delight for Jasmine, whose only good memories of the holiday came from the past four years — and even then, they had all occurred in the confines of Hogwarts with a couple of friends. This was her first experience of celebrating Christmas at a place she truly felt was home — and with what felt like a large, extended family, too.

It was new, it was exhilarating, and Jasmine came close to tears several times over the course of the day because she was so overcome with unfamiliar emotions. Fortunately the others understood and didn't insist on asking her what was wrong every time she turned away to wipe at her eyes, something for which she was incredibly grateful.

Sirius had splurged shamelessly, even in his gifts for the Grangers and the veela guests. He told people not to complain because he'd been in prison for thirteen years and on the run for nearly two more, so he was making up for not having been able to celebrate any kind of holiday in a long time. Fortunately the Black Family fortune was still such that he could enjoy himself spending on nice gifts and not feel the pinch.

While Jasmine appreciated the nice clothes Sirius got for her, she was far more enthralled by a photo album he included. With "Jasmine Dorea Potter" written in gold lettering on the cover, it contained a wealth of pictures of her parents and her first year with them. She already had one photo album of her parents which Hagrid had given her after her first year, but this new one had even more photos, none of which she'd ever seen before.

Jasmine and Hermione received a set of magical hairpins and matching magical jewelry boxes from the Grangers. The hairpins were spelled to hold hair in a variety of styles while the jewlery boxes were expanded on the inside to hold far more than they could otherwise. Fleur and Gabrielle gave them matching bronze daggers, heavily enchanted by the veela for balance, sharpness, and strength. They were also spelled so their owners could more easily catch them by the handle when summoned back.

The most spectacular gifts were probably the sleeveless basilisk-hide tunics which Apolline, Sybine, and Adrienne had brought from France. "These are the first," Apolline explained, "but others will be completed soon. Just tell us who gets them and they will be provided."

"I know we need three for the muggle who trained Dobby and Winky," Hermione said as she ran her hands along the scaled exterior of her new tunic. "I suppose one for each of the members of our study group. That's nine more."

"One each for Sirius, Remus, and Tonks," Jasmine added. "And of course you four."

"Us?" Sirius asked. "You don't have to—"

"I want you protected," Jasmine interrupted. "No arguments."

"This looks incredible," Remus marveled as he ran his fingers over Jasmine's. "What sorts of enchantments are on it?"

Apolline and Adrienne shared a look before the latter answered, "You must keep this information to those who receive one — the types of enchantments we can apply is a closely guarded secret. No one outside the veela is normally allowed to own anything of this level of quality."

"Why are you giving some of them out, then?" Emma asked.

"The material is only available because of Jasmine," Apolline explained. "She slew the basilisk and thus had the right to its corpse. Since it was so large, its hide will produce a large number of tunics, many of which will be purchased for elite veela warriors. Providing a few for Jasmine and her friends is our way of saying thank you — especially since we know that they will probably be needed."

"There are quite a few enchantments on this," Adrienne said, returning to Remus' question. "There are spells to make it snug even as the owner grows, to keep the wearer cool or warm depending on the outside temperature, to provide comfort inside, and to self-repair minor damage like scrapes, scorch marks, and the like. Then, of course, there are several different spells to make it more resistant to both magical and physical damage, all reinforcing the natural strength of the hide."

"All of those enchantments for comfort are intended to make it easier for you to wear them all the time," Sybine added. "These tunics won't do any of you much good if you leave them in your trunks."

"How is all of that possible?" Remus asked. "I didn't think that an object that was already so magical could get anything beyond the most rudimentary enchantments. Even dragonhide clothing enchanted with a few basic comfort charms is prohibitively expensive due to how hard it is to do, and dragonhide isn't infused with nearly as much magic as the skin of a millennium-old basilisk."

"Well, that's another secret — one that is even more important that you keep within the family," Sybine answered. "Veela are superior enchanters because of the manner in which we do it. The goblins, for example, do their enchanting as individuals — a single apprentice learns from a single master, then goes on to apply enchantments alone, as an individual. This is how most human wizards and witches do their spell work, in fact."

"For veela," Apolline continued, "family and loved ones are everything. Spread through our various enclaves are groups of women who live together and do enchantments together. The love and harmony of their home and relationships is the foundation for the magic they wield. Instead of a single individual trying to force an enchantment onto an object, a group of mothers and daughters, sisters, friends, and lovers work in concert to gently weave enchantments into an object, allowing the new magic to work in harmony with whatever magic was already there. We blend our own magic together, and that allows us to seamlessly meld our power with that of the object, regardless of how much power was there to begin with. This allows for more complex enchantments with stronger effects."

"That's amazing," Sirius commented as he examined one of the tunics. "I guess I can see where that would make at least certain types of spells work better. I'm used to doing magic by myself, so I didn't even realize such a thing was possible."

"Few do anymore," Apolline replied sadly. "It used to be more common, but as far as I know, the veela are the only ones today who still practice magic in that manner."

* * *

 **Saturday, December 25, 1995, Evening.**

"So, what have you been doing since you stopped teaching at Hogwarts, Mr. Lupin?" Emma asked during dinner.

No one missed his grimace as he answered, "Please, call me Remus. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to do much. It's hard to get work as a werewolf."

"And it's much harder today than it used to be," Sirius added with a scowl.

"Really? Why is that?" Lindsey asked.

"The laws in wizarding Britain have never been kind to werewolves," Remus explained, "but about a year and a half ago the Wizengamot started passing legislation that's made it all but impossible for a werewolf to find work in the wizarding world."

"Why did they do that?" Emma asked. "What was wrong with the old rules?"

"Umbridge," Sirius spat out like a curse. "She's vehemently anti-everything that she doesn't consider a fully human pureblood wizard or witch, and she seems to have a special hate for werewolves."

"What made her start—" Jasmine began to ask, but she was interrupted by Hermione exclaiming, "Snape!"

"Huh?" Jasmine said quizzically, looking at her girlfriend.

"It was Professor Snape, don't you see?" Hermione replied. "What happened a year and a half ago that would have made it easier to change how werewolves are treated?"

"Snape revealing Remus' condition!" Jasmine said as her eyes grew wide.

"That sonuva..." Sirius started to say before catching himself. "Just because he didn't succeed in getting me kissed by a Dementor, he ratted you out, Remus, and as a consequence made it impossible for you to get any sort of decent job."

"And did the same to every other werewolf in Britain," Remus growled. "Not that all of them care about such things, but I know that I'm not the only one who'd prefer to live a quiet, peaceful life."

"What a horrid man," Emma said. "I must say, everything I hear about him makes him seem worse and worse."

"Why does Dumbledore keep him on staff, again?" Lindsey asked. "I can't imagine any muggle company, much less a muggle school, allowing such a person to hold any sort of job with them, never mind one with so much power and authority."

"Dumbledore insists that he trusts Snape," Sirius answered. "He won't say why, though. Just that he trusts the git."

"Well, he's the only one," Jasmine muttered.

"Let's not waste time thinking about grinches like Snape," Lindsey said into the morose silence that followed. "Christmas is a time to be happy."

"Grinches?" Sirius asked in confusion.

"Oh, we have _so_ got to get you a TV," Hermione said with a smile.

* * *

 **Sunday, December 26, 1995, Morning.**

Hermione and Jasmine were at a complete loss for words as they looked at Arthur Weasley in his hospital bed. The once vibrant, healthy man was now gaunt and broken as he struggled to breathe. Jasmine reached out and put a hand on Mrs. Weasley's shoulder while Hermione did the same for Ron. In the back of the room, Sirius and Remus spoke in hushed tones with Bill and the twins while Neville stood next to Ginny near the door, one arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"Thank you for coming," Mrs. Weasley finally said, her voice hoarse from the strain of the past two days. "If he were awake I know he'd appreciate seeing you. Of course I'll tell him you came by as soon... as soon as..." She simply couldn't get any more words out; instead, she grabbed her husband's greying hand and sobbed quietly.

Jasmine turned and went to the back of the room, hoping she might learn something. Sirius didn't even wait for her to ask, though, and simply shook his head. "No, they haven't figured out how to heal him."

"I thought the healers here were good," Jasmine said, anguished. "Why can't they do anything?"

"They suspect he was hit with a lot of different low-level curses and hexes," Sirius explained. They aren't sure, but that's their working theory right now. If that's what happened, then they aren't the sort of thing that anyone here is used to seeing and treating. At the same time, though, the spells seem to have been combined in a way that makes them extremely dangerous. Everyone is stumped."

"It's like giving someone a bunch of different potions that, on their own, would each make the person slightly ill," Bill said, "but all together, they make the person violently sick. By the time the potions have combined in his system, it's impossible to figure out exactly what was given and what the countermeasures should be."

"Right now, the healers are limited to treating the symptoms," Sirius continued. "That won't cure him, though. It will only keep him from getting worse too quickly. Either he beats all of the hexes and curses on his own, or they figure out what he was hit with so they can start countering them."

"And neither seems likely right now," Bill said tiredly. "But that's why there's family in here at all times, to encourage him to fight this. And the healers are monitoring him constantly as well."

* * *

"I'm surprised to see you here," Hermione said to Neville after talking to Ron for a bit.

"Just a lucky coincidence," Neville explained. "I was here visiting my parents with my gran when I saw some red hair down the corridor. Since I knew Mr. Weasley had been injured, I decided to investigate."

"I'm glad you did," Ginny said as she pressed against him more closely. "Thank you."

"It helps to have someone who's not immediately affected," Hermione commented. "Neville can stand a bit stronger in the face of this than your brothers can, so you can lean on him and draw more strength from him."

Ginny gave a wan smile, relieved to have the words to explain why it felt better and easier to lean on Neville — literally and figuratively — than on Bill, despite the fact that Bill was her favorite brother.

* * *

 **Sunday, December 26, 1995, Afternoon.**

Adrienne was surprised to receive an owl not long after the others had returned from St. Mungo's, and was even more intrigued when she read the letter it was carrying. She showed it first to Apolline and Sybine, then later to the younger witches when they had some privacy. It was a note from Lufestre, reporting that the two gifts from the Yule ritual were small brooches made of the same silvery metal with a rainbow sheen, shaped into symbols of the goddess whom the goblins worshipped.

She wouldn't divulge what exactly they looked like because it was a long-standing taboo to reveal the image to outsiders, but she assured them that there was no obvious connection between the shape of the brooches and the other gifts, so she didn't think it was relevant to the mystery of who made them all — except, of course, for the fact that no non-goblins should have been even vaguely aware of what the symbol should look like.

No one was surprised that the news from the goblins only deepened the mystery rather than solved it. Disappointed, perhaps, but not surprised.

"Are you going to tell your families about those bracelets?" Fleur asked.

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, then Hermione said, "We've been talking about telling our families the truth. _All_ of the truth. I think it would be best to do it before New Year's Eve. It will let us start off the new year in a more open and honest way."

Jasmine nodded. "And it makes sense to include the bracelets as well."

"Well, I'm glad we'll be here, just in case you need any help explaining things," Apolline said.

"That occurred to us as well, once we realized that we'd all be together for the holidays," Jasmine said.

* * *

"Say, Sirius, where's Kreacher?" Hermione asked. "I don't think I've seen him at all since we arrived. Usually he'd have skulked by at least a couple of times by now, muttering about half-breeds and the House of Black being shamed by us all."

"He, uh, spends a bunch of time working elsewhere these days," Sirius answered evasively. "I'm afraid I can't say more than that."

"Elsewhere, huh?" Jasmine said.

"Nope, not saying a thing," Sirius insisted, shaking his head.

"Got a girl stashed in a love nest somewhere, Padfoot?" Remus asked.

Had Sirius been drinking, he'd have spit it out when he heard that question. Instead he visibly shivered and said, "No, nothing like that. Nothing like that _at all_."

* * *

 **Sunday, December 26, 1995, Evening.**

"Jasmine Dorea?" Gabrielle asked as she looked through Jasmine's new photo album. "Your middle name is Dorea?"

"Yes, I'm named after my grandmother," Jasmine answered. "She was Dorea Black, and was... Sirius, how was Grandma Dorea related to you?"

"She was my mother's aunt," Sirius said, "though she was only five years older than my mother. She was unusual in that she wasn't named after a star or constellation, as has been traditional in my family."

"The name is Greek," Apolline said. "It means 'gift,' and is an old variation on the name Dora."

"Huh, I didn't know that," Sirius responded. "There are a couple of women in the Black family with Dora as part of their names. Elladora and Callidora, for example."

"Those are Greek, too," Sybine said. "They can both mean 'gift of beauty,' though Elladora might also mean 'gift of the whirlwind,' depending on the origin of Ella."

"Well, you learn something new everyday," Sirius said.

No one noticed Hermione gazing off into the distance, deep in thought.

* * *

 **Monday, December 27, 1995, Afternoon.**

He wasn't sure when exactly he regained consciousness, he just suddenly realized that he was awake. He wasn't sure where he was, either, but it was quiet, which unnerved him a bit. He tried to think back to the last thing he could remember, but all he could come up with was pain. Lots and lots of pain.

Gradually he started to hear sounds, but they seemed distant, and he couldn't quite make out what they were.

"Artie?" came a voice that sounded close, but it was hard for him to focus.

"Artie?" it asked again.

He found himself able to look around, and when he did he recognized the figure standing in the doorway. "Mum?" he exclaimed. "What are you... but you're..."

She nodded and stepped inside the room — which he now realized was a hospital room.

"Come along, Artie, it's time to go."

"But... but... me?" he asked. "Why?"

"Because it's time."

"But... what about..." he looked around the room and saw several people who appeared to be asleep.

"They'll be fine," she said gently.

He looked at her in disbelief, so she added, "Not right away, to be sure, but they'll manage. They're all strong."

"Are you certain?" he asked. "I mean, isn't there any chance? Any at all?"

She shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid not. You've already been kept too long, and that's been making things worse for everyone."

He sighed and slowly got up out of the hospital bed. He had expected that it would be harder to walk towards the door, but he found that with every step it became easier.

"Why you, Mum?" he asked. "I mean, why not Dad? Or both?"

"It's always the person you miss the most," she answered. "For me, it was my sister, Callidora. I expect you'll come for Molly."

Arthur nodded slowly, then took his mother's outstretched hand and exited through the bright doorway.

* * *

Magical alarms sounded, but they were soon drowned out by the cries of a family that still needed its husband and father.


	32. The Truth About Love

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original.

I always encourage readers to ask questions in reviews and say that I'll try to answer them, but that assumes that readers are logged in so I can contact them privately — I don't like to answer reviews here in the chapters. That said, a recent guest review raised concerns about dates, and I thought other readers might want to understand my reasoning.

As I wrote at the start of the first chapter, dates here are an extension of the dates used by Rowling in _Goblet of Fire_ , so they won't match the dates she used in _Order of the Phoenix_. Since none of her dates matched real calendar dates, there may be some conflict there as well. I've done what I can to fit events from the fifth and sixth books into the dating sequence of the fourth.

Rituals are taking place on the dates that they actually were held or most likely would have been held in Scotland or Scandinavia during 1995 and 1996. I may have reached mistaken conclusions from my research, but I didn't pull the dates out of nowhere.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "The Lily Potter Foundation" by theflyinfoote. After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry takes a look at his life and isn't happy with what he sees. He realizes that he doesn't want to do the things everyone else simply expects him to do — like become an auror — but he's not sure what he's going to do instead.

* * *

 **Chapter 32 - The Truth About Love**

 **Tuesday, December 28, 1995, Afternoon.**

"Is this something I should seal the room for?" Sirius asked as he closed the sitting room door, wondering what could be so important that Jasmine and Hermione felt the need to tell them now of all times. The mood at Grimmauld Place was melancholy in the extreme since they had received word the day before about the death of Arthur Weasley. They were all feeling the loss because everyone who knew the man liked him — none of them could ever remember him being spiteful or violent, and even under the most trying of circumstances, he tended to be good-natured. The grief of his family could only be guessed at.

"No, it's not necessary," Hermione assured him.

"Are you certain?" Sirius asked with a frown, noting in passing that the portraits were all absent. "It must be pretty important for you to want me to stay here rather than go with Moony." Truth be told, he was happy to have an excuse to not accompany his friend to see what help the Weasleys might need. As much as he wanted to assist them, he really didn't like being around Molly Weasley even on the best of days — not after she kept trying to take over his house during the past summer.

"Everyone else who's still here, uh... well, they already know." Hermione said a bit sheepishly.

"You told the others these secrets before telling us?" Lindsey asked, sounding a little indignant.

"Not technically," Hermione said quickly as she sat on a couch next to Jasmine. "Some of it they figured out on their own. And some, well, some of it was originally _their_ secrets which they shared with us."

"Remus doesn't know, and we're not sure yet about telling him," Jasmine clarified. "It's the veela who know."

"Oh. Right, then," Lindsey said, looking a little puzzled. Sirius frowned at that. When they were originally asked into the sitting room, the two Grangers had exchanged a look that suggested they knew what this was about, but now they seemed less confident.

"I know that this might not seem like the best time to do something like this," Hermione began, "but we always intended to have this discussion over the holidays at some point. The news yesterday, though... well, it reminded us how fragile life can be, and that we shouldn't wait too long to share important things with our loved ones."

"Just so you know," Jasmine added, "we haven't told you any of this before because it's so personal and we've been working it out ourselves. We haven't been happy about keeping it from you and wanted to tell you sooner, but we didn't feel ready before." The girls looked at each other and seemed to be steeling themselves, then they each grasped the other's hand.

"Mum, Dad, Sirius," Hermione said, "Jasmine and I are together. As in, a romantic couple." The Grangers showed no immediate reaction, but Sirius' eyes bulged.

"We're dating," Jasmine went on. "But it's also more than that because this is a serious relationship." For once, Sirius was rendered too speechless to make a bad pun about his name.

"Serious enough to intend for this to be a permanent relationship, in fact," Hermione continued. "We've even exchanged promise rings." Both witches held out their left hands, willing their rings to become visible. Jasmine didn't even have to scrunch up her face in concentration anymore.

Sirius stood up, mouth open wide in surprise, and stumbled forward to kneel before the two witches so he could examine the rings. "These... these are Potter family rings, aren't they?" he asked hoarsely, having trouble believing what he was clearly seeing.

"Yes, I guess so," Jasmine said as Emma also got up to come look more closely at the rings. "Dobby got them out of the family heirloom vault. One started out as a ring for wizards, but the goblins reforged it to make it a matching witch's ring."

"Do you recognize them?" Hermione asked.

Sirius shook his head as he returned to his seat. "I've never seen these rings specifically, but I could tell that they were old family pledge rings of some sort. You wouldn't be able to wear such rings without being part of the family in question, so that means Potter family rings. I'm not sure even Jasmine would be able to wear Black family rings right now."

Sirius stared down at his lap in shock, feeling like he'd been hit with a bludgeoning hex. _I knew they were close_ , he thought, _but Merlin... not_ _ **that**_ _close! Not like that!_ _What went wrong?_ He immediately began to review all of their interactions to try to see what he could have missed... and quickly came to the conclusion that he had missed quite a lot — that there had been lots of signs, at least starting the previous term, and that he had ignored every single one of them.

After a few moments, he realized that the room had gone silent and glanced up to see what was happening. Lindsey was gazing at his daughter with a look of... was it disappointment? Hermione had clearly seen it and had a white-knuckled grip on Jasmine's hand.

"Mum? ...Dad?" she said tremulously.

It was Emma who broke the silence.

"Oh, we're fine with it — we've known for months," she said brightly. Turning to her husband, she slapped at his knee and crowed, "As for you, though... pay up!"

Sighing, Lindsey started digging into his trouser pocket. "Ten quid, was it?"

Hermione gaped. Jasmine just looked confused.

"You know it was," Emma replied, accepting the cash with obvious relish. "Our girl wasn't made a Gryffindor for nothing, you know."

Hermione finally found her voice. "You made a **bet** on whether I was **GAY**?!" she screeched.

Sirius couldn't help it — he started laughing so hard that he nearly fell off his chair.

"No, dear," her mother said calmly, eyeing Sirius disapprovingly for a moment before turning back to her daughter. "We made a bet on when you'd get up the nerve to _tell_ us you were gay. There's a difference. I figured you'd announce it sometime over Christmas break, but your father here thought you'd wait at least until summer."

Hermione was reduced to incoherent spluttering by this point, so Jasmine jumped in to ask, "So, um... how'd you find out?"

"I saw you two kissing that night we were attacked by the Death Eaters," Emma said simply. "Seemed pretty obvious at that point."

"You've known since then?" Sirius asked as he tried to catch his breath and thought back to the Grangers' behavior when they first visited. He could tell that Jasmine was doing the same; Hermione was apparently still beyond rational thought. "Ah — I thought you seemed... surprisingly calm."

Emma shrugged, then amended, "Oh, don't get me wrong — it took more than a little soul-searching on our part to come to terms with it. And I wouldn't try to claim that the idea never troubles us in the least anymore, but we've at least come to recognize that it's _our_ problem that we need to get over, not something that they need to change about themselves. It's helped that we've always been fairly progressive in our politics, but it's still different when it's your own daughter."

Lindsey nodded in agreement. "And of course, the Church is no help. When it turns out your little girl can do magic, commandments like 'suffer not a witch to live' start to take on a whole new meaning," he said, an edge of steel creeping into his voice. "And its position on same-sex relationships compounds the problem."

"That, too," Emma conceded, "though in hindsight, we've been drifting away from the Church ever since we first found out Hermione was a witch." She turned back to her daughter. "In the end, it simply came down to this: we knew we were still going to love you no matter who you yourself chose to love… just like we were going to love you regardless of whether you were a witch or not."

Jasmine noticed that this statement finally seemed to mollify her girlfriend and was relieved to see her start resuming her normal coloring.

"And _then_ ," Lindsey went on, "we became the minority straight couple surrounded by veela — bit of an eye-opener, that. And that's after having almost been murdered in our beds and having to flee the country because some magical bigots think we're subhuman. Frankly, after all that, _nothing_ can shock us anymore."

"Amen to that!" Emma added fervently. "Discovering we have a lesbian daughter is probably the most normal thing to happen to us in the last six months."

"What about you?" Jasmine asked her godfather. "Do you think you'll be able to accept us? We both know how couples like us have been treated in wizarding Britain — that's one reason why we've hardly told anyone."

"We've only told four others, in fact," Hermione put in. "In each case, it was because we absolutely had to — and even then, we got magical oaths first."

"Magical oaths? How bad is the prejudice?" Emma asked with a frown. "Gays and lesbians certainly don't have it easy in muggle society, but it sounds a lot worse among magicals."

"I have no idea what muggles do," Sirius replied, looking troubled, "but wizards and witches completely ostracize such people. They're kicked out of families, denied jobs, not allowed to even purchase things in stores if they are recognized... it's pretty bad. They aren't criminals, but they'd almost be treated better if they were."

"Oh, honey..." Emma put a hand to her mouth in horror. "And you thought...? Oh, sweetie, come here..." she said as she held out her arms to her daughter. Hermione readily accepted the invitation, and Lindsey put an arm around her as well. "You do know that we would never, _ever_ reject you over something like this, right?" Emma asked. "Or for **any** reason! Even when I was first trying to come to terms with it, it never would have even occurred to me!"

Hermione made some muffled noises against her mother's shoulder which seemed to be affirmation. "Thanks, Mum," she finally whispered, wiping at her nose a bit as she sat back down.

"That's not to say that we aren't still working through our feelings," Lindsey admitted.

"True," Emma said. "For example, it hit me at one point that this probably meant not having grandchildren—"

"Oh, wow, I hadn't even thought of that!" Sirius exclaimed, leaning back and putting a hand to his forehead. "I guess that's the end of the Potter line." _And the end of the Black line, too, if she accepts my offer of adoption_ , he added silently. _Unless I get busy and have kids of my own._

"In vitro fertilization might be an option," Emma continued, "but I don't know if any of the places doing it will accept lesbian couples."

"Invi-what?" Sirius asked, surprised that muggle women could get pregnant without men. Where was the fun in that?

"It's a muggle—" Lindsey started, but he was interrupted by Jasmine holding up her hands.

"No, no, that's not necessary," she said. "We don't need muggle medical treatments. It's possible for witches to get pregnant from each other. And they'd be the children of both of us, not just one of us."

Sirius was intrigued. "Really? I've never heard of anything like that."

Emma was ecstatic. "Really? Grandbabies?"

Lindsey was upset. "Really? You can get my little girl pregnant? My silver lining in all this was that I thought she couldn't get knocked up accidentally. Now I learn that I have to worry about what you two are getting up to after all?"

"Dad!" Hermione cried while Sirius started chuckling again.

"No! I mean, well, yes. Er, uh..." Jasmine spluttered, digging herself even deeper and causing Sirius to laugh all the harder.

"Dad!" Hermione said again, clearly getting angrier at the look he was giving Jasmine. "It requires a very special, very difficult-to-brew potion. No one will be accidentally 'knocked up,' as you put it — our children will have to be carefully planned. Yes, Mum, there will be grandchildren. No, Dad, it's none of your business what the two of us are getting up to." Her eyes narrowed at his reluctance to back down, so she crossed her arms defiantly and continued, "In fact, since you all know about us now, I don't think there's any point in keeping up the pretence. Sirius, would you mind if we moved into the same room?"

It was Lindsey's turn to splutter while both Emma and Jasmine went bright red; Sirius was too far gone in laughter to give an answer. Hermione simply glared at her father, daring him to contradict her.

"So," Emma said slowly, apparently looking for a way to change the subject. "I guess you two really are serious about your relationship? Not many people your age talk about having children. Well, not unless there's been, you know, an accident."

"Yes, we are," Hermione said, not dropping her expression of defiance. "I know that we may seem young, but we have good reasons."

"Oh, they're serious, alright," Sirius cut in. "Those rings prove it."

"They do?" Emma and Hermione asked at the same time.

"Like I said, they're Potter family pledge rings," Sirius explained. "They're used for betrothals, engagements, and even weddings occasionally. I'm guessing that you haven't done any of that, which makes it a little strange that you can wear them — using them as mere promise rings wouldn't typically qualify. But I can tell you that Hermione wouldn't be able to wear one at all if the family magic hadn't accepted you two as a couple of some sort."

"Really?" Jasmine asked as she looked down at her ring — and appeared to be trying to avoid Lindsey's gaze. "We had no idea."

Hermione was looking off in the distance. "Actually... that does explain something that I'd been wondering about. We saw a glow when we exchanged the rings. I thought that it was Magic simply accepting the promises we were making to each other, but maybe it was the family magic accepting us as a couple."

Sirius nodded. "Yes, you'd see a glow in an official betrothal, engagement, or marriage, too."

"But you didn't know about this," Lindsey said, sounding as though he was still trying to keep his annoyance in check. "So what was the reason you had for insisting that you're definitely serious? You're pretty young, after all, and it's extremely rare for couples as young as you to stay together."

Emma poked him with her elbow while Hermione scowled at her father again, then she looked at Jasmine and grabbed her girlfriend's hand. They both nodded, turned back to the others, and spoke in a clearly rehearsed manner: "Jasmine Dorea Potter and Hermione Jean Granger have a soul bond."

Emma and Lindsey simply looked back in confusion, but Sirius surged to his feet. "Merlin's bollocks!" he swore.

"Sirius?" Jasmine said worriedly.

"You... you're not pranking us, are you?" Sirius asked. "You're for real? An honest-to-Merlin soul bond?"

"We wouldn't make a joke about something like that," Hermione insisted.

"I... I think we should bring my mother into this," Sirius said after a moment. "This is pretty big news and... and I think it would help."

"That horrid woman who always screams at everyone?" Emma asked in disbelief.

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry, it's all an act so Dumbledore doesn't know that I have the portraits watching him."

"She needs to be able to keep this a secret," Jasmine insisted. "We can't afford for others to learn about our relationship."

"Not a problem," Sirius said distractedly as he left the room. In a minute he was back with Walburga's alternate frame and set it in a chair.

Walburga, for her part, while not exactly screaming, was definitely expressing her displeasure with her son's erratic behavior as he carried her in. "Sirius? Sirius, I insist that you tell me _this instant_ what's so important that I need to be here... in front of... our guests." She ground to a halt as she realized who else was in the room. Glaring at her son, she flicked her gaze briefly towards the Grangers and silently demanded an explanation. Fortunately she refrained from launching into one of her shrieking tirades, apparently concluding that the need for such a display must be over in their case, and that she was about to find out why. Sirius himself was still too overwhelmed to answer, so he gestured for the girls to retell their story.

Walburga's face didn't betray nearly as much surprise as Sirius expected when she learned of their relationship; the soul bond, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.

"A soul bond?" she whispered as she moved forward in her portrait to look at the couple more closely. "Could it really be? I never even considered... but yes, that makes even more sense..."

"What _is_ this soul bond thing?" Lindsey asked, clearly getting impatient. "You all act like it's something special."

"Oh, it is," Walburga answered. "You have no idea how special."

"Few people do," Sirius added. "Little is known about them, at least when it comes to the details, but what it comes down to is that the souls and magic of such a couple become inextricably linked. They are permanently tied together in a way that's deeper and more profound than any words can express."

"Why is so little known about them if they are so significant?" Emma asked.

"Such bonds are created by Magic and thus are also protected by Magic," Walburga explained. "Couples involved in a developing bond can't even find out about it themselves until they are ready to handle the knowledge, lest they or someone else do something to interfere with it."

"The knowledge is hidden, like the location of this house," Sirius continued. "You remember that you had to read the address on a slip of paper before you could even see the building?" Emma and Lindsey nodded. "A soul bond works under the same principle — none of us can learn about one unless and until the couple involved tells us. And they can't do that until they find out themselves."

"You said that you _have_ a soul bond — that means that your bond has been finalized and isn't simply developing, correct?" Walburga asked.

Jasmine nodded in response, but Hermione's eyes narrowed a tiny amount as she looked at the portrait.

"Does anyone know why such bonds are... created by magic, you say?" Lindsey asked. "I'm guessing that they are rare?"

"Oh, indeed," Walburga confirmed. "This is very old, very deep magic, and while our family has always prided itself on keeping alive such knowledge to the best of our ability, no one fully understands it. However, it is believed that Magic imparts to a couple the ability to forge such a bond when they have some important destiny to fulfill — a destiny that requires such a bond to complete."

Sirius suddenly sat up straighter and looked hard at the two young witches.

"...And that's the _other_ thing we wanted to talk to you about," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Jasmine added. "Us being a couple is the _little_ secret, relatively speaking."

"What else could there possibly be?" Lindsey asked, now starting to sound more than a bit worried.

"Well, there are two prophecies about us—" Jasmine began.

"Wait, two?" Sirius interrupted.

"Three, technically," Hermione corrected, "but the third refers to one of the others, so it isn't too important."

"We don't know all of one prophecy," Jasmine explained to the Grangers, "but the gist is that I'm the person — and the only person, apparently — with the power to defeat Voldemort." Emma sucked in her breath; Lindsey tightened his grip on her hand.

"Prophecies are real?" he asked weakly. "Are you sure?"

"I'm afraid so," Sirius said. "There are frauds who claim to be prophets, but real prophecies can be told from the fakes, and Dumbledore was the person who heard this one. Unfortunately Voldemort also learned of the beginning, and that's why he's always targeted Jasmine: he wants to get rid of her before she figures out how to get rid of him."

"Which means that I don't have any choice but to fight him," Jasmine concluded.

"And that means that I'm going to have to fight as well," Hermione said quietly.

Neither of the Grangers looked the least bit happy about that, but before they could respond, Sirius jumped in to say, "But what do you mean that there are two prophecies? I've talked to Albus about the first one, but he never mentioned a second one to me."

"That's because he doesn't know about the second one," Jasmine replied. "What's more, you can't tell him or anyone else about it. This is a secret and will have to remain such for quite a while." When the others nodded, Hermione told them about the thousand-year-old veela prophecy, which had them all gaping by the time she was done.

"So basically, you two have been made responsible for... what? Reforming the magical world? Revolutionizing wizarding society?" Lindsey asked. "How can anyone ask two teen girls to take on such a task?"

"Magic doesn't ask," Walburga said absently, clearly still trying to come to grips with all the revelations. "Magic just is, and when it reaches out to us, witches and wizards are expected to heed its call."

"Doesn't sound fair," Emma grumbled.

"We can hardly ignore that which gives us our power and separates us from everyone else," Walburga said a bit haughtily. "However, Magic only reaches out to the most worthy — those who are most able to shoulder the responsibilities it places on us." She looked at the girls and said, "I think I now understand why the political power of the Black family interested you. You're planning ahead, which I congratulate you on."

"Actually, we're doing a lot more than planning," Jasmine replied, then proceeded to explain what she and Hermione had been doing with S.P.E.W., the DA, and finally the magical rituals that had been transforming Britain's landscape right under everyone's noses — including the mysterious gifts that had appeared after the last celebration.

"Oh, my," Walburga exclaimed as she sat heavily. "I don't think I've ever been happier to have had a chair included in this portrait. I've long believed that you would go on to do great things, my dear, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that you might set your sights so high. I don't think anyone in the Black family has ever been ambitious enough to pursue goals like yours."

"These bracelets are exquisite," Emma commented as she looked at Hermione's.

"Indeed they are," Walburga agreed. "I have no idea what they are made of, but with that ancient symbol of Hekate on them, I'm sure they are concealing a great deal of power."

"I... I don't know what to say," Sirius whispered. "It's all just... so big. Too big."

"I don't even understand most of it," Lindsey complained. "But from what I do understand, I have to agree with Sirius."

"Well, you could start with how you feel about... well, this," Jasmine said softly to her godfather as she raised up the hand that was clasped with Hermione's. "You never did say."

"Oh, kitten, I'm so sorry," Sirius responded, going over to give her a hug. "It's just... you've laid an awful lot on us this afternoon. It's honestly difficult for me to figure out how I feel about _any_ of it. Exhilarated. Scared. Impressed. Confused. Worried. Proud. Terrified. All that and more."

He pulled back from the hug a little so he could meet her eyes. "As to your relationship with Hermione, well, I've always thought that she was the perfect best friend for you, so I certainly can't object to her personally. The witch part, though... that's going to take a bit of getting used to. I wasn't exactly brought up to be accepting of such relationships, and while I questioned and rejected a lot of what I was taught growing up, I didn't do that with everything... and I guess this was in that latter group."

"You're welcome to talk to us, if you want," Lindsey said to him. "More than anyone, we know what it's like, and we've had a bit of time to get used to it."

"If it helps, Sirius," Walburga said, "just keep in mind that their soul bond means that Magic doesn't merely accept their relationship, but actively _wills_ it. That goes well beyond even the fact that the Potter family magic accepts them as a couple, which is already significant. However much our social traditions condemn such relationships, those traditions mean nothing in the face of Magic itself. And I know that one of the teachings which you never rejected was to respect Magic."

Sirius nodded. "Yes, that's true enough. Even so, it's awfully strange hearing you, of all people, offer any sort of defense for Jasmine and Hermione. No offense, Mother, but you're one of the first people I'd expect to scream in outrage about their relationship being unnatural."

Walburga smiled thinly. "Perhaps... and when I was alive, I surely would have; but I've had more time to get used to it than you."

"What?" Sirius exclaimed.

"You knew?" Jasmine and Hermione asked together.

"I strongly suspected," Walburga answered. "The amount of time you spend together, the way you two interact, and a myriad of other little things suggested to me that you were more than mere friends. Remember that I'm stuck in a portrait frame all day, everyday. It gives me a lot of time to think."

"Wow — I'm impressed," Sirius said, and looked it. "I've interacted with them a lot more than you have, and I never suspected for a second."

" _Not_ seeing them may have helped," Walburga said. "I couldn't be deceived into only seeing what I expected. There's also the fact that... well, this isn't the first time such a witch has existed in the House of Black."

"Really?" Sirius asked, fascinated. "Do tell!"

"No, I'm not going to betray any confidences," Walburga replied, shaking her head. "Let's just say that while such relationships have never been approved of, they have been quietly tolerated so long as they were kept secret and didn't threaten the future of the family." She turned to face the young couple and continued, "Not that I'm going to argue for such conditions to be forced on you two."

"We know we need to be discreet and keep this private," Jasmine assured her.

"Actually, I was going to say that you should consider telling more people."

"You've _got_ to be kidding!" Sirius protested.

"Seriously?" Hermione asked. "You know how people like us are treated. Even Jasmine would barely be able to survive, but as a muggleborn I'd have to leave the magical community."

"I'm not talking about taking out an advert in the _Daily Prophet_ ," Walburga said with some asperity. "I'm talking about your friends. Your coven. The witches and wizards — but the witches in particular — who are working with you in your rituals and in your project to change society."

"Why them?" Jasmine asked. "Not that I'm disagreeing — we've talked about telling them. But I'm curious about your perspective. And why do you call them a coven?"

Walburga seemed to sit a bit straighter, clearly pleased that Jasmine cared about her opinion. "For one thing, they won't remain close friends if you keep something like this from them. First you will grow distant as this secret pulls you in different directions. Then, if and when you finally tell them, they will be upset that you didn't trust them sooner. Secrecy for a while can be forgiven, but not for too long. The other reason is that the magical and political power of your group will suffer when there are significant secrets or lies infecting it."

"She's right," Sirius said. "Your friends are helping you work towards the fulfillment of this prophecy, yet they don't even know it. You aren't deceiving them since they happen to be working for similar goals anyway and for their own reasons, but it's still dishonest to keep it from them for too long. On the other hand, knowing the truth will help them commit even more fully to the project. The more closely united you all are, the more your magics will align, and that will help translate your will and intent into reality." Realizing what he'd said, Sirius thought ruefully, _I've been spending_ _ **way**_ _too much time with my mother's portrait..._

"That's what a coven is, ultimately," Walburga concluded. "It's a group of wizards and/or witches who are so closely aligned in purpose that their magics act more like that of a single person rather than separate individuals. It's a whole that is far, far more than the sum of its parts."

"So, the amount of power that we've been seeing during these rituals..." said Hermione.

"...might actually _increase_ once we tell the others the truth so they can consciously align themselves with us?" Jasmine finished.

Walburga simply nodded, but Sirius shivered at the thought. "On the one hand I'd be interested in seeing something like that," he said. "On the other, I'm scared to death of what it must already be like."

"I think that sums up my reaction to nearly everything we've been told here," Lindsey said, shaking his head. He turned to his wife. "Although, you know... this prophecy does explain something I've been wondering about. I mean, the veela are fantastic, but I've never understood why they were willing to go so far out of their way to help us — we're merely a couple of British muggles as far as they're concerned. Or so I figured." A thought obviously struck him then. "So does this mean we're like Mary and Joseph or something?"

Emma gave him a wry look. "Somehow I doubt it. If nothing else, I rather think we'd be disqualified by the whole 'virgin birth' thing — as you might have occasion to recall."

"Ah. Right."

"Look, it's almost dinner time," she pointed out. "Why don't we all take a break and get something to eat. This has been quite the emotional roller coaster for me, and I'm sure it hasn't been easy for anyone else."

"Sorry about laying so much on you like that," Hermione said, "but there wasn't any easy way to break it up. It's not like we could tell you one secret now, then say that we'll tell you an even bigger secret in a couple of days."

"Dinner sounds like a great idea," Sirius nodded. "And getting it in before Remus comes back would give us more time to talk."

"As long as it's just us," Jasmine agreed, "you can ask Apolline and the others any questions you have about soul bonds, the prophecy, the rituals, or anything else."

"They won't mind?" Emma asked as they all started getting up.

"Not at all," Hermione said. "In fact, Apolline suggested it. They understand that it's a lot to take in, especially all at once, and they want to help."

* * *

"Well?" Phineas asked once Sirius had returned Walburga's portrait and left. "What was so urgent that he had to haul you out of here with no explanation and keep you for so long?"

"I can't tell you," Walburga replied. "I'm sorry, but I gave my word."

Phineas was surprised but not offended. "Can you at least tell me if it relates to your belief that Miss Potter will become a Dark Lady?"

"Dark Lady?" Walburga repeated. "Dark Lady? My dear Phineas, you think too small. That's far too trivial of a title for where our Jasmine Dorea is going."

* * *

 **Thursday, December 30, 1995. Afternoon.**

Jasmine squinted against the bright sun and longed for sunglasses to put over her eyeglasses. _Why is it so bright and sunny?_ she wondered. _I thought it was supposed to be rainy and dreary on days like this. Having bright sun and fluffy clouds seems... wrong somehow._

She inched a bit closer to Hermione, wishing that she could hold her hand or put her arm around her, and watched as Ministry officials she didn't know stood there with fake faces and recited platitudes they didn't believe about a man who had tried to be a surrogate father to her. She hadn't spent much time with him, but she was now wishing desperately that she had.

All the Weasleys looked hollow-eyed and even a bit shocked, as if it still hadn't quite hit them that one of the foundations of their family was gone. As sad as Jasmine felt, though, it was tempered by a deep gratitude that she'd had at least had some time with Mr. Weasley. It wasn't as much time as she'd had with her own father, technically, but she didn't remember her father at all, so the time with Mr. Weasley meant all the more to her.

She wanted to tell others this — to tell them to remember the good times and appreciate what they had, because it was so much better than not having it at all. She wasn't sure how to put all of that into words, though, and she doubted that such thoughts would be well-received right now anyway.

It was then that Jasmine thought she discovered a truth: that when you found someone you loved and who loved you back, it was important to appreciate and hold on to them while you could, because you couldn't know for sure how long they'd be around.

Slowly, Jasmine reached out and grasped Hermione's hand. She felt her girlfriend stiffen at the unexpected contact, but Jasmine simply squeezed. _No one can see_ , she thought, _but it doesn't matter. We need this. At times like this, we need to not just remember and honor those who have passed, but to hold on tight to those who are still with us._

Hermione seemed to relax after a moment and leaned into Jasmine a bit more.

Because everyone was focused on the casket and grieving family, no one paid any attention to the two witches standing so close together.

* * *

 **Friday, December 31, 1995. Evening.**

"What's the matter, Sirius?" Hermione asked when she and Jasmine found him standing alone in the drawing room, staring silently at the large tapestry which depicted his family tree. "Everyone else is gathering to start celebrating New Year's."

"Just thinking, is all," he answered, sounding more than a bit down.

"About what?" Jasmine prompted him.

"About family," he said. As the silence dragged on, the girls decided he wasn't going to continue, but then he surprised them by saying, "For decades I've hated my family. Blood bigots, the lot of them. Or most of them, at least. Now, though, they are being incredibly helpful — so helpful, in fact, that I wouldn't be surprised if their assistance becomes critical for Jasmine's success down the road."

"So, you're feeling conflicted," Hermione said.

"A bit," Sirius agreed, "but that's not all. I've been thinking of what I can do to reform the family's reputation. To make the family name something that I can be proud of. Or, at least, something your children can be proud of." Jasmine and Hermione traded a look but didn't say anything.

"I thought about starting with the family motto," he went on, "since that's easy enough to change, but then it occurred to me that I don't want to do anything that would make it harder for the family portraits to want to help. They can be ordered to help and even compelled, but coerced assistance is never as good as willing cooperation, and some of the portraits here seem rather willful."

"Willful?" Hermione asked, having become curious in recent days about how magical portraits were supposed to work.

"Well, my mother's portrait, mostly," Sirius responded. "She's a lot more dynamic and assertive than the other portraits."

"Interesting," Hermione murmured as she stared off into space for a moment, then she turned back to Sirius. "What is the family motto now?"

" _Toujours pur_ ," he said, "Always pure."

Hermione pursed her lips in thought. "What about a simple change: _Toujours pur..._ of something?"

"Intent?" Jasmine suggested. "Heart?"

Hermione shook her head. "The first doesn't sound good in French, and the second... well, it's a bit sappy, to be honest. Somehow I don't see many of the old portraits going for that."

Sirius looked on in amusement as the two girls so casually discussed reworking the foundational principle of a centuries-old magical house.

"Will?" Jasmine suggested next. "Spirit?"

"Spirit!" Hermione said. "That's perfect: _Toujours pur de l'esprit —_ always pure of spirit. The word 'spirit' is a synonym for will, character, attitude, mind, intellect, and even (distantly) intention. It's also commonly used in mottos and popular sayings."

Sirius turned and looked at her with a curious expression, so she continued, "All of those in your family who are decent should find the change relatively inoffensive, especially since there are several good meanings that they can take from it. Those members who aren't so decent may not be happy with changing something so old and traditional, but they hopefully won't regard it as a direct snub against them. And again, they may find a meaning that they can at least tolerate."

"So it shouldn't be enough for them to become less willing to help," Sirius concluded. "That's a good idea, Hermione. Inspired, even." He pulled her into a sideways hug as he gazed contentedly at the tapestry. "No wonder my goddaughter is in love with you."

Both Jasmine and Hermione smiled shyly.

"Since we're talking about family," Jasmine said hesitantly, "I... I'd like to go through with the adoption. If it's still OK with you, that is?"

Sirius beamed and put his other arm around her. "Of course it's still OK with me. The offer is open for as long as you want it to be, kitten. I'll contact the goblins in a few days and get the parchment work started."

"Why them?" Hermione asked. "Why not the Ministry?"

"The goblins need to be informed about this sort of change because it will affect things like who has access to certain vaults," Sirius explained. "As a courtesy to good customers, they also have relevant Ministry forms on hand as well. They'll take care of their own forms and work with the family lawyers to deal with the Ministry forms. They don't do this for everyone, just the bigger clients."

"How long do you think it will take?" Jasmine asked.

Sirius looked at her quizzically for a second, then said, "You know, I never gave any thought to how the two of you switch back and forth so seamlessly in a conversation. But now that I know what's going on, it's quite remarkable." Both witches started to squirm. "No need to feel embarrassed! It's a sign of how close you two are. I'll bet you've been doing it for a while without even realizing it. Anyway, they could probably get it done right quick if I paid to have it rushed, but there's no need — you'll be at school for the next several months, after all. I think we'll probably have it wrapped up shortly after the summer hols start."

"Thanks, Sirius," Jasmine said. "I... I really appreciate it. I know I took a lot of time to think about it, but that wasn't because I didn't want to—"

"It's OK," he interrupted. "I didn't expect you to leap at it right away. It's a big step, and it was right for you to think about it. Have you made any decisions about your name?"

Jasmine nodded. "Potter-Black sounds better to my ears."

"That's fine," Sirius said. "You shouldn't worry about just using Potter casually, if you'd prefer. I doubt that your parents would be bothered if you didn't, but I won't be bothered if you do. You'll only have to use the hyphenated form in official contexts — signing contracts and that sort of thing. It will also appear that way in official records, like at Hogwarts and the Ministry."

"I'll think about it," Jasmine said as she hugged her godfather, soon to be adoptive father, even tighter. She felt Hermione do the same on the other side of him and for the first time that she could ever remember, she felt like she was becoming part of a real family that loved her.


	33. (Don't Fear) the Reaper

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Reboot" by Kallanit. Normally in responses to reptilia28's challenge, it's Harry who is sent back in time to fix things. This time, however, it's Severus Snape who's offered the chance (Harry ends up returning as well, though much later). Well-written and an interesting perspective on this story idea.

* * *

 **Chapter 33 - (Don't Fear) the Reaper**

 **Saturday, January 1, 1996, Morning.**

 _What a difference a year makes_ , Dumbledore thought morosely as he sipped his tea and yawned. _A year ago I spent the day as I have for decades past: I rose before dawn, enjoyed the quiet of the early morning, then headed out to Godric's Hollow. This year I got up several hours later than usual, and even that was a chore because I'm getting so much less rest these days. I still want to go to Godric's Hollow, but getting around is so much more difficult. I can probably make it, but I'll have to skip my visit to Aberforth and will end up in bed early, out of sheer exhaustion. And I still have to visit Miss Potter tomorrow!_

For the first time in his life, Albus Dumbledore was truly feeling his years. It was something he had always known would come eventually, but he had expected that it would come on slowly as he grew older — not hit him in an explosion and incapacitate him.

 _Maybe I should ask someone to help me go to the cemetery?_ he wondered. _It would make things easier, and I might even be able to visit Aberforth afterwards. At the very least I'd have enough strength to do some work when I get back, maybe prepare for my meeting tomorrow... or perhaps do a bit more research into possible horcrux locations._ He looked over at the bedraggled-looking phoenix in the corner. _Pity that Fawkes is so close to a burning day — he would probably help me if I asked._

Fawkes gazed back at his companion and trilled sadly. Dumbledore assumed that it was about the imminent burning day.

 _No, this is something I need to do alone_ , he concluded. _As difficult as it is, it's my fault she's there, and so it's my duty to go see her — and not anyone else's to assist. The extra difficulty is, if anything, simply part of the penance I must pay for having allowed myself to be led astray in my youth. For allowing myself to resort so quickly to using violence as a solution to a personal disagreement._

He groaned as he pushed himself out of his chair. _If I get going now, I should be able to make it back shortly after lunch. Then maybe a nap, and with any luck I can finish preparing for tomorrow during dinner._

* * *

 **Saturday, January 1, 1996, Afternoon.**

Amelia Bones frowned as Rufus Scrimgeour and Moira O'Connor entered her office, both wearing grim expressions. "Calling me in for a meeting on New Year's Day is highly unusual, so this had better be good. Have you got some major leads on what happened to Arthur Weasley, perhaps?"

"I'm afraid not," Scrimgeour said regretfully. "We are working hard on it — we all liked Arthur, so everyone is anxious to find out who killed him and why. Unfortunately, no one will tell us why he was down in the Department of Mysteries, right outside the Prophecy Room. If we knew that, we might get somewhere."

Bones sighed. "I might be able to rattle a cage or two — let me see what comes of it. But if that's not what was important enough to drag me back into the office, what was?"

O'Connor cleared her throat. "It's a bit hard to explain. The earliest reports about this were made over a month ago, but they were so vague and trivial that no one paid any attention to them. More and more started coming in, however, and one of the clerks in the records department noticed a pattern. Once he put it together, he brought it to the attention of a Hit Witch he's dating, who brought it to me. I showed it to Rufus, and neither of us could figure it out. That's when we set up this meeting."

"I'm both intrigued and annoyed," Bones said flatly. "Get to the point."

"There's evidence of massive amounts of magic having been performed in at least two locations in Britain," O'Connor went on in a rush. "We can't pin down the exact places, but one is in Cornwall, and the other is in Cumbria. There may be a third in Scotland, but if so it's near Hogwarts, and it's difficult separating out all of the magic that's already in that area. Thousands of square kilometers have been affected in and around the other two areas, impacting both magical and non-magical plants and animals. Some of the changes are subtle, but there are definitely changes."

Bones' eyebrows went up slightly. "OK... a bit less annoyed now. How massive are we talking about?"

"We... can't tell," Scrimgeour answered. "We have no idea how long ago the magic was performed, but we made an educated guess of two months, just to be safe. We had someone in the department who's good in Arithmancy use that as well as the size of the areas affected, and... well, the equations normally used for such calculations couldn't handle it. The numbers were simply too large."

"Now you definitely have my attention," Bones said. "Is there anyone else you can go to?"

"We could try someone with a Mastery in Arithmancy," O'Connor suggested, "but not without your authorization."

Bones nodded. "You've got it. Just make sure they sign the standard non-disclosure contract. Who do we have who can investigate the scenes?"

"Most of our resources are tied up right now," Scrimgeour admitted, "and even if they weren't, I'm not sure who would be best qualified to look into something like this. What's more, I can't even say for certain that a crime has been committed. Sure, anything that can produce magic like this is something we need to know about, and it probably isn't something the Ministry would approve of, but taking investigators away from actual crimes — and especially from the covert fight against You-Know-Who — isn't appealing."

Bones sighed in frustration. "Those are all good points. But still, I'd like to see at least one person start working on this, even if it isn't their primary case."

Scrimgeour thought for a moment, then nodded. "I have a couple of ideas. I'll see who I can assign."

"Very well," Bones said as she stood. "If that's everything, I'd like to get back home so I can celebrate New Year's with my niece."

* * *

"It was a year ago that we first visited Gringotts," Jasmine said as they climbed the steps to the bank. "That meeting was informative, but not productive. Hopefully this time it will go better."

"At least this time we have a confirmed appointment," Hermione responded, noting how many of the goblins seemed to be giving both of them funny looks.

Once they were back in Knobshaft's office again, Jasmine said, "I'd like to start out by thanking you, Account Manager Knobshaft, for initiating the audit on my family's accounts and for ensuring that your correspondence about that matter remained private."

"You're welcome, Miss Potter," he said cordially. "What business do you have to conduct with us today?"

"First, I'd like to be sure that whatever we say here remains private," Jasmine said. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what Gringotts' policies are on that."

"It's quite simple, Miss Potter. Nothing you say here will be passed to any non-goblin. Anything that doesn't affect the goblin nation won't go beyond this office, save for those goblins required to perform tasks necessary to take care of your accounts or do any business that is contracted with us."

"What do you mean by 'affecting the goblin nation'?" Hermione asked.

"If you want to do something such as open a new vault, then only I and those responsible for vault assignments will know about it," Knobshaft explained. "However, if you decide to open a gold mine on property you own and contract with us for mining supplies, then information about the existence of the mine will eventually be passed along to those who monitor such businesses."

"Ah, because that might affect the price of gold, which affects the goblin nation," Hermione concluded.

"Exactly, Miss Granger. But that information will remain with the goblins. We would not, for example, inform your Ministry or the muggle government."

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other briefly, then back at the Account Manager. "That's good to hear," Jasmine said as she and Hermione both held out their left hands, revealing their rings. "You already knew about these. My question to you is, what do they signify to the goblins and to Gringotts about our relationship?"

Knobshaft eyed the rings carefully, then looked up at the determined expressions of the two witches. "These are family pledge rings, used in a variety of ways, all of which bind a wizarding couple together to one degree or another. That you both can wear them means that the Potter family magic accepts you as a couple of some sort, even if wizarding society would not." He paused for a few moments, then continued, "The two of you are not officially engaged or betrothed, and I don't think your Ministry or society will ever accept you as married. However, if you request it, then for banking purposes I believe that Gringotts would be willing to treat you as a married couple. I will probably have to check with the Senior Branch Manager to confirm, but for now let's assume that he will approve."

Both Jasmine and Hermione smiled broadly at those words. "We were hoping you'd say something like that," Jasmine replied. "First, I'd like to assign Hermione Jean Granger access to the Potter vaults that is equal to mine." Knobshaft nodded as he wrote that down. "Second, I'd like to inquire about making wills. I've never dealt with legal issues in wizarding Britain except for one farce of a trial. Is that something Gringotts handles?"

"No, we don't do wills for wizards and witches — our treaties restrict us to banking. However, we have close relationships with magical barristers and solicitors for such occasions. I'll send you a list of those we can recommend for someone in your situation. I can think of a couple who have handled Potter family business in the past."

"Good," Jasmine said. "The spell that has been redirecting my mail has weakened, but not lifted. I'm getting some mail that I didn't before, but I don't think it's consistent. So if you could, at least for the time being, please send anything for me addressed to Fleur Delacour. She's teaching at Hogwarts and will be able to pass things along to me quickly."

"I'm glad to hear that," Knobshaft said as he took more notes. "This will make doing business with you much easier. Now, if that's all you had, let's talk about investments for the gold that's been sitting in your family vault. Once I get official recommendations from you, I will be released to make some investments on your behalf. For now, you may only make recommendations until you are of age, but I'm obligated to take them seriously and to make cautious investments on your behalf. And if I lose money, I have to replace it from my own personal funds."

* * *

 **Saturday, January 1, 1996, Evening.**

Voldemort tapped one finger on the table as he read over the plans which Bellatrix had given him the night before. They couldn't get Potter or her mudblood friend, but that left seven targets: Patil, Lovegood, Bones, Abbot, Weasley, Greengrass, and Davis. The problem was that Bones would be a hard target to attack, and Greengrass would probably be nearly as difficult. Allocating enough resources to properly take care of them would not leave enough to deal with the others.

So Bellatrix had come up with a creative but complicated solution: attack the other five first, then once they were done send three teams against the Bones house and two against the Greengrass estate. It would require a lot more coordination than usual because ideally all five teams would have to attack at the same time, finish at the same time, then regroup and launch their second attacks in concert. It would be tricky, but doable.

The chances for success would be much better if he could participate directly, even with the problems he was having, but he needed to keep his return a secret for as long as possible. _The question is, how much is it worth getting all seven on the same night? Do We pick a daring plan that will give Us all the targets, or do We pick a cautious plan that has a greater chance of success but will result in reduced rewards?_

Despite being a Slytherin, a house that was supposed to be characterized by a cautious and careful approach to problems, Voldemort had rarely been satisfied with a cautious plan that got him half a loaf when he had a daring plan that could get him the whole thing.

 _We need to impress upon Bellatrix the importance of keeping information about this operation quiet_ , he concluded. _We can't take the chance of anyone accidentally letting anything slip._

* * *

 **Sunday, January 2, 1996, Morning.**

"Bloody hell," Jasmine whispered, and Hermione didn't bother to chastise her. Both sat with expressions of shock and disgust on their faces after having learned of what Tom Riddle had done in his quest to make himself immortal.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, "that was much my reaction as well, and I'm far more knowledgeable about old and vile magics than I hope you ever will be."

"So he can't be killed?" Jasmine asked. "I don't have any chance at all?"

"The situation isn't quite so dire as that," Dumbledore assured her. "He cannot be killed so long as his horcruxes continue to anchor his soul to the land of the living. Once they are gone, however, he can be killed again."

"How long have you known?" Hermione asked. "How long have you known that Voldemort is immortal? Well, sort of immortal."

"Known?" Dumbledore said. "That's not as easy to answer as you might assume. It's not a fact that I read in a book. Even before Miss Potter defeated him in 1981, I knew he had been researching ways to extend his life, almost all of which are very, very dark magic. After the incident that Halloween, I strongly suspected that he wasn't completely gone and that he had successfully done _something_ to keep him from passing on to true death, but of course I couldn't be sure what. I investigated several options, a process which was very unpleasant, but I was not able to come up with any hard evidence."

"The diary!" Jasmine blurted out. "I remember, the shade of young Tom Riddle said something about pouring his soul into Ginny."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a nod. "That was one of his horcruxes — his first, if I'm not mistaken. It was then that I was sure which method he'd used to prevent his own death. The only question then was whether he'd made more than one and, if so, how many. I suspected more, but again could not prove it. At least, not at the time."

"What's changed?" Hermione asked. "Have you found more?"

"After a fashion," answered Sirius, who had insisted on being part of this meeting. "What we've found are a couple of destroyed horcruxes. They are supposed to be loaded with enchantments to keep them from being easily destroyed, but somehow these were anyway. We don't know how, and we don't know why."

"But it proved that he made several," Dumbledore continued, "and we're reasonably sure that there are a couple more out there. I obtained evidence that suggested he would have made six, which with the soul remaining in his body would add up to seven pieces total. We know that four have been destroyed, and I am actively hunting what I hope are the last two."

"How does this relate to the prophecy?" Hermione asked. "Something as significant as this would surely be part of it, wouldn't it?"

"Not necessarily," Dumbledore responded, "but I did promise that I'd tell you the rest of the prophecy today, and now seems as good a time as any. You already know that it starts: 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…' The rest states: 'and the Dark Lord will mark them as his equal, but they will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.' That's the entire prophecy, and it, like Voldemort's use of horcruxes, must be kept secret — no one can know."

"Excuse me, Professor," Hermione said, her expression troubled, "but is Voldemort even alive now?"

"What do you mean?"

"His body was destroyed by Jasmine," Hermione explained, speaking slowly as she worked through the logic. "By most definitions that would be death. The fact that his spirit didn't move on doesn't necessarily mean he was still alive, just like the presence of ghosts doesn't mean someone is still alive. Possessing Quirrell didn't make him alive. So... does inhabiting a magically-created body make him alive? And either way, what would count as killing him?"

"Those are good questions," Dumbledore said. "I'm not sure there are any easy answers, since no one has satisfactorily described a sharp dividing line between life and death. I tend to think that his current body qualifies him as living, but I will admit that your reasoning is sound. Perhaps he was, in a sense, killed in 1981, but the process never quite finished due to his horcruxes. Either way, I think the answer is that once his horcruxes are eliminated, then damaging his current body beyond the ability of magic to repair would effectively kill him — or at least complete the process of killing him which started so long ago."

"What did he use for horcruxes?" Jasmine asked as Hermione stared off into space, deep in thought. "I'm guessing he didn't do the smart thing and use a rock that he then tossed into the Black Lake. Or even the middle of the ocean."

Dumbledore looked at her blankly for a moment, then took off his spectacles and began rubbing his eyes. "My dear," he said, sounding pained, "you have no idea how much I hope that you will never go dark. We should all be glad that Voldemort does not possess the ruthless pragmatism that seems to come so easily to you. No, his preferences for horcrux vessels have been a bit more grandiose. Even egotistical. Can you not think of some good candidates?"

"Oh!" Jasmine said. "That's why you have been showing us those memories! He used those magical artifacts from the Founders!"

"Those were his primary choices, yes," Dumbledore replied. "That wasn't the only reason why I wanted you to see the memories — more generally, I wanted you to have a better understanding of how he thinks. Of what he would choose to make a horcrux out of and why. It was my original hope that once you understood this well enough, you would be able to help me track them down — possibly even take over the task entirely if something happened to me. However, events have overtaken my plans, and that may not be necessary."

"You're operating under the assumption that Jasmine will have to fight Voldemort directly, aren't you?" Hermione asked. "You expect that they will have to fight, and in that fight one will have to kill the other."

Dumbledore nodded. "I do not relish telling a young witch that she will have to kill, but I spent a lot of time studying the prophecy, and that's the most reasonable interpretation I've been able to come up with."

"But did you do that study before or after you learned about the horcruxes?" Hermione asked. When Dumbledore raised a questioning eyebrow, she continued, "What if Jasmine can fulfill the prophecy by destroying his horcruxes? Or at least, the rest of them... or maybe even just the last one? Doing that might arguably 'vanquish' him since it will make him mortal, at which point he's as killable as any human. I don't know if that would also qualify as him 'dying' by her hand, but the prophecy already uses the word 'die' metaphorically in the phrase 'seventh month dies,' so... why not?"

Both Dumbledore and Sirius looked at Hermione with great interest, and after a long moment Dumbledore said, "That is an intriguing interpretation, Miss Granger, and I commend you on it. I'd even give you house points for it, if I could. I admit that my study of the prophecy was indeed long before I concluded that Voldemort had made horcruxes, and it never occurred to me to go back and revisit the text in light of that discovery."

Hermione beamed at the praise and the expectation that she had found a way out for her girlfriend. However, that good mood was not to last.

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore went on, "there is one flaw in that interpretation. Well, not so much the interpretation — I think it's valid and would eagerly take it over mine. The flaw is in the fact that Voldemort believes that he must kill Miss Potter in order to safeguard his own existence. Regardless of how the prophecy might be fulfilled in the end, that much is at least true."

"And so long as he thinks he has to kill me, he'll keep coming after me," Jasmine said. "Which means that a fight will come — a fight in which I have to be ready to kill in order to survive."

"That is correct, Miss Potter," Dumbledore said. "It may turn out that the prophecy will be fulfilled as Miss Granger describes, with someone else ultimately striking the killing blow against Voldemort. It might even be someone you have sent to do something, thus making their act one that is metaphorically by your hand. But however much we may all prefer events to go that way, we cannot simply assume they will."

Hermione looked disappointed, but she wasn't ready to give up entirely. "No, I suppose you're right about that, but that doesn't mean that we can't arrange things so that the prophecy **can** be fulfilled that way."

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked.

"Well, the most obvious thing is to make sure Jasmine is available to destroy any horcruxes you find," Hermione said. "We should probably go with you when you find a likely location for one, just in case it needs to be destroyed on the spot."

Dumbledore thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "That will open the door for the prophecy to be fulfilled without Miss Potter having to fight Voldemort to the death. It doesn't guarantee that she won't, but the possibility will exist. Very well, I will agree to that, at least provisionally. I will not be able to take you on every trip I make to investigate a new lead, but when I think I have found one of these objects, I will try to bring you along."

"What else can you tell us about horcruxes?" Hermione asked. "Are there any standard detection spells? Standard ways of destroying them? How do you—"

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger," Dumbledore interrupted, "but a horcrux is one of the most vile forms of magic I have ever come across, and I do not wish you to know any more about them than is absolutely necessary."

"It's only knowledge," Hermione insisted. "There's nothing wrong with knowing how something is done or made, especially if that knowledge will help you undo it."

"No, I'm sorry, but I must stand firm on this," Dumbledore said as he rose slowly from his seat. "I've told you all you need to know on the matter. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be getting back to the castle."

* * *

After Dumbledore had left, Sirius silenced and sealed the door to the sitting room again and turned to Hermione. "I know you weren't happy with how that ended, and while part of me agrees that this isn't the sort of magic you should know about, another part realizes that maybe you don't have much of a choice." Sirius sighed deeply and raked his fingers through his hair. "I hate being in this position. I don't want you to become corrupted by magic that's as dark and twisted as a horcrux, but I also want you to have all the tools you need in order to help Jasmine. I know that if anyone can pull apart such information in order to find something useful, it's probably you."

"So you know more about horcruxes?" Jasmine asked. "Or can get the knowledge?" Sirius nodded.

"Would it help if I made a promise or even an oath that I wouldn't do anything evil, like try to create my own horcrux?" Hermione asked.

Sirius stared hard at her for a long moment before saying, "Yes and no. I don't need a vow, but I would like your promise that you won't do anything without running it by me first. You can sit and think about these things and how to beat them all you want, but if you want to try any spells or cross-reference them with another subject, you need to talk to me. I'll need to know what you're doing and every step you're taking. That way I can put a stop to it if I see a trap or problem that you wouldn't recognize."

"OK, I can agree to that," Hermione said. "I can't imagine that there's a whole lot that I can do without having a horcrux to work on, and that's not likely to happen. The most I can do is study related subjects to get a better understanding of the underlying theory, and I have no problem promising you that I'll talk to you before starting with any particular book or subject."

"Good," Sirius said. "And the first place to start is with my mother's portrait. She knows all about horcruxes."

Hermione frowned. "How would she know so much about them?"

Sirius shrugged. "She was into the Dark Arts when she was alive. I doubt there was much Dark Magic that she wasn't at least familiar with. And it's a good thing, too, because it was her portrait who first realized that Voldemort must have made several horcruxes. She told me, and I told the Headmaster. He had already suspected it, but we were able to provide proof."

"How did she figure it out?" Jasmine asked.

"One of the horcruxes that was destroyed was in this house," Sirius said with a shiver. "It sat here for years, not doing anything, but one night it exploded. Took out most of this sitting room, in fact. She deduced that it was a horcrux which my brother Regulus had stolen from Voldemort and then gave to Kreacher to destroy. He couldn't figure out how to do it, so it sat here. We still have no idea how or why it blew up, but after my mother realized what it was, she also realized what that diary was. One thing led to another and... well, here we are."

Hermione's frown only deepened as she digested what Sirius had told her. "That's all interesting. I look forward to talking to her about it."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather you talk to her than start reading the books," Sirius said. "Those books are horrible, and I can insist that she take care in what she reveals — she should be able to tell you the basic facts without including anything truly dangerous."

"OK, Sirius," Hermione said, "I appreciate this. And I won't let you down." She looked at Jasmine and took her hand. "Either of you."

* * *

 **Sunday, January 2, 1996, Afternoon.**

"So what's troubling you, dears?" Elladora asked once Jasmine and Hermione were seated. "Sirius said you wanted to talk to me and even went so far as to order me not to tell even him what you have to say unless you give permission."

"We've started telling the people closest to us some of our secrets," Jasmine replied, "and... and we're still not sure if we're doing the right thing."

"You're afraid that they will tell others?"

"No. Well, a little, but that's not the real issue," Hermione answered. "It's more the burden that we're placing on them. We're asking a lot of them just by telling them our secrets, never mind when they want to help with the tasks we have before us."

"Burden?" Elladora asked. "I'm not sure how much of a burden it can be knowing someone's secrets. It might be easier if you tell me a little about what you mean, though I'll understand if you'd rather not."

The girls traded a look, then turned their attention back to the portrait. "I guess it won't hurt," Jasmine said. "Sirius is one of the people we told. Even Walburga knows. But so long as it doesn't spread, it should be OK." The two witches proceeded to explain to the portrait about their romantic relationship, having a soul bond, being the subject of two prophecies and what those prophecies were about, the unprecedented magical rituals, and the creation of both S.P.E.W. and the DA.

By the end, the portrait's eyes had started to glaze over. "Any one of those things would be difficult to believe, but all of them? And all of them centered around a couple of underaged witches?" She shook her head. "I don't think I've ever been at such a complete loss for words before. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like to have all of that in your lives, but I can see now why you're worried about burdening others by telling them these secrets."

She pondered the problem for a bit. "It's all so big and so hard to believe. It must be difficult for people to act normally around you as if nothing had changed. They can't ignore it — it's all too important to who you are and what you're doing — but how can they look at you the same way anymore?"

"That's it exactly," Hermione said. "We still feel like the same people. We want our friends and families to continue treating us the way they always did. But I'm not sure they'll be able to. I can already see it in the eyes of my parents and Sirius — it's like they don't quite know how to approach us or what to say to us. Would it have been better to not tell them?"

Elladora shook her head. "No — as hard as this is now, that would have been worse. Keeping important secrets always harms close relationships, and your particular secrets are far bigger and more important than most."

"So what do we do?" Jasmine asked.

"The easiest thing to do," Elladora answered, "is to help them focus on who you are and have always been outside of your recent disclosures. Make an effort to interact with them in ways that don't involve any of these revelations — ways that they are accustomed to and which will hopefully remind them about how they've interacted with you before. It will take some time, but hopefully they will come to see that while they've learned some new things about you, you're still the same people you were before you let them in on your secrets."

"I guess that makes sense," Hermione said. "They can't ignore these new revelations, but we can help them focus on other things while they come to terms with what they've learned."

Elladora nodded. "Despite how overwhelming it all is, I'm glad that you were finally able to tell people about your relationship. I know it's not easy, worrying about how loved ones will react — will they accept you, will they cast you out...?"

"Finally?" repeated Jasmine. "Wait, did you know?"

Elladora smiled. "I knew it within moments of when you first walked into this room to talk to me over the summer, my dears. It was obvious."

"How could it be..." Hermione started, then she stopped as her eyes narrowed. "You know it's not easy? Does that mean you are... or rather _were,_ like us?"

Elladora sat up straight and replied, "I'm afraid that it would be against the professional code of Mind Healers for me to bring my own life into these discussions, or even talk to you about my personal life when I'm supposed to be helping you with yours." She paused for a moment, then leaned forward conspiratorially and continued, "That said, though, I want you two to know that you can always come to me with any questions or problems you may have with your relationship or how others are reacting to it. I promise you that I understand far, far more than most ever will."

In the silence that followed, Elladora went on more tentatively, "If that's all you needed to talk to me about, I do have one request before you go..."

"Uh, sure, if we can," Jasmine said.

The portrait got an eager look in her eyes. "Please, tell me about the rituals you performed. What were they, what was said, and what happened? And who are the veela you've been working with?"

* * *

"So how did it go?" Sirius asked when they returned to the sitting room later that evening.

"Great," Jasmine said. "She was a lot of help. More than we could have expected."

"It's good to be able to open up to someone who knows how to help and will keep your secrets," Sirius observed.

"Keep our secrets?" Hermione asked in surprise. "I'll be right back!" She turned and ran out of the room, heading up the steps.

"What was that all about?" Sirius asked.

Jasmine shrugged, unconcerned. "I learned a long time ago not to ask about that sort of thing. She'll tell me when she's ready."

"Well, while she's off doing... whatever, I wanted to talk to you about telling Moony about some of what's going on with you," Sirius said.

Jasmine frowned slightly. "I understand why you want to do that. I'm not as angry with him anymore, but... I have to say, I don't feel as close to him as I used to. Some things are hard to forget."

"It's not necessary to tell him everything, especially since it's such a huge amount to deal with at once," Sirius argued. "I'd only want to start small, to start getting him on board. He could be a lot of help — he's smart, and he's skilled magically."

Jasmine nodded slowly. "You have a good point, and he can't help nearly as much if he doesn't know what's going on. What did you have in mind?'

"Aside from the prophecy — the Voldemort prophecy, I mean — the easiest thing to tell him is about your relationship," Sirius answered. "I know it's the most personal, but just about everything else hangs off of that in some fashion."

"That's true. It's why we told you and the Grangers what we did and the way we did. I wouldn't get into the specifics of the prophecy, just the gist of it. But... I guess we can tell him about us. You have to make sure that he won't say anything to anyone, though."

"Oh, he won't, I can guarantee that," Sirius assured her. "Once we see how he reacts, we can consider how to proceed."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to do it, would you?" Jasmine asked.

"Me? why me?"

Jasmine sighed. "I've already had to go through telling you and the Grangers. We're going to tell Ron tomorrow, then he, Ginny, and Neville will learn most of our other secrets. There are only so many times I can go through this story — it's such an emotional wringer!"

"Sure, sure," Sirius said as he pulled his goddaughter into a hug. "How about this: I'll get him alone one evening and tell him about your relationship. I'd add in the soul bond as well if I could, since knowing that has made it a lot easier for me to accept things, but I can't reveal that — you'll have to do that yourself. But you sit in the next room so if he has questions or anything, you can come in to answer."

"That sounds fine, Sirius," she said as she leaned into the hug. "Thanks."

* * *

"Elladora?" Hermione asked as she re-entered Sirius' bedroom.

"Yes, dear — did you forget something?" the portrait asked in her usual, kindly manner.

"No, just a quick question: do you know much about soul bonds?"

"A little," Elladora answered. "There isn't much known about them generally."

"And have you ever known any soul-bonded couples?" Hermione asked.

"Unfortunately, no," Elladora answered with a sigh. "I wish I had, I think it would have been educational to learn how that type of relationship differs from other relationships, and how the soul bond differs from the traditional marriage bond. In fact, now that you bring it up, I wonder what effect a soul-bonded couple would have on magical rituals like the ones you've participated in. Why do you ask?"

"I was doing some research," Hermione said with a smile. "You've been very, very helpful. Thank you!"

"Oh, wait — Hermione?" Elladora called out. "I received a message right after you left: Walburga needs to talk to you and Jasmine sometime today. Privately."

* * *

 **Sunday, January 2, 1996, Evening.**

"We're sorry that we couldn't get here any sooner," Jasmine said as she closed the door to the portrait room.

"That's fine," Walburga responded. "This won't take too long, but it is important that we get to it."

"What is it that's so important?" Hermione asked.

"That book," Walburga answered, pointing to a old, thin, black book sitting on the table. "It has some spells that I think are important for you two to learn. Unfortunately, Sirius would never bring them to you, so it's up to me to ensure that this part of your education isn't neglected any longer."

"Why wouldn't Sirius show these to us?" Jasmine asked, hesitating to touch the book.

"These spells aren't dark magic, are they?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Wizards might think so," Walburga said with a predatory glint in her eye, "but for witches, they are indispensable."

Jasmine heard several noises of fear and surprise and noticed that the male Black portraits had suddenly disappeared. At the same time, the female Black portraits that were present were looking quite pleased with themselves.

"This book is centuries old," Walburga continued as Jasmine slowly opened it. "Every witch in our family has learned from it, whether they were born a Black or simply married into the family. You should learn the spells, too, Hermione."

"Wow," Hermione said as she read over Jasmine's shoulder. "I had no idea there were spells to do that."

"I understand that you've both made progress with wandless and silent spellcasting?" Walburga asked. When they both nodded, she continued, "Good. Ideally, you need to be able to cast these wandlessly. Silently is also good, but not as critical. Fortunately, these spells were created to be easier to cast wandlessly, so even an average witch can learn how to do it."

* * *

Three hours later, Jasmine and Hermione entered the kitchen for a snack, whispering and giggling the entire time.

"I wonder what that was all about," Emma asked once they'd left.

"I'm not sure I want to know," Lindsey responded, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"It's... not what you think," Sirius said, looking even more uncomfortable. "Probably."

"What do you mean?" Emma asked.

"My mother wanted to talk to them," Sirius explained. "I can remember my three cousins, Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Andromeda, acting like those two after my mother and my aunt Druella had a talk with the girls. 'Witches' business,' they told me when I pestered them to learn what it was about." Sirius shifted awkwardly in his seat again before continuing, "I never did find out the details, but let's just say that soon thereafter, I vowed to never prank those three again. Ever."


	34. You've Got a Friend in Me

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "The Lawyers Against the Cup" by Tangerine-Alert. Harry didn't enter himself into the Triwizard Tournament, so there has to be a way out, right? Dumbledore and the other adults at Hogwarts offer him no solutions, so he leaves school and seeks help from the Dark Side: lawyers.

* * *

 **Chapter 34 - You've Got a Friend in Me**

 **Monday, January 3, 1996, Morning.**

Neville and Ginny hugged for a long time after he stepped through the front door of Grimmauld Place. "I missed you," he whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't come visit you more often."

"That's OK," she whispered back. "I know your gran has expectations for you over the holidays."

"So how come you're here?" he asked. "Why not at the Burrow, as usual? Jasmine apparently had a hard time convincing the Headmaster to let me in on the secret of this place."

"My family moved in here last night. Well, moved _back_ in here — we stayed here for much of the summer, too. The Burrow is safer now that Bill has added a lot of protections, but Mum wasn't doing well at home. Professor Lupin thought that she might start recovering a bit better here, where there isn't so much to remind her... well, you know. We'll have to see how it goes."

"It's also more private," Jasmine added as she stepped up to the couple. "There are... things you two need to know. And we wanted to let Ron in on the secret you already know."

"Are you sure?" Ginny asked with a frown. "I know you haven't wanted to..."

Jasmine shrugged. "No, I'm not sure, frankly. His jealousy and propensity to open his mouth without thinking first is still a problem. However, he is a friend. And he was once our best friend. We have to be willing to trust him at some point, otherwise the friendship is meaningless."

"What about all the others?" Neville asked. "You know, the study group?"

"They're next," Jasmine answered. "But we wanted to start with Ron, given our long friendship with him. We want you two there, partly to help if he reacts badly, and partly because there's more that we have to tell you as well. It's a lot, and it will be a bit hard on him getting so much all at once, but it's all important."

Both Neville and Ginny nodded in understanding. "We'll do what we can to keep him calm," Neville assured her.

"Thanks," Jasmine responded. "He and Hermione are upstairs. Let's go join them."

* * *

Ron stared, open-mouthed, his gaze moving back and forth between the two witches.

"You... you two?" he said, sounding completely confused. "Together? I mean... how does that even work?"

"I don't think that's entirely your business, Ronald," Hermione said in a tone halfway between annoyance and amusement. Ron's ears went red when it dawned on him exactly what he had just asked.

"You're probably wondering why we didn't tell you sooner, especially since it must be obvious that Neville and Ginny already knew," Jasmine said, watching Ron scowl and his ears go even redder. "Well, that question is part of the reason: you have a habit of saying things before you think, and we've been worried that you might accidentally say something which reveals this secret to the world." Now Ron's eyes went wide and he lost his scowl.

"Neville had to be told so I could have a date to the Yule Ball," Jasmine continued. "Ginny found out accidentally, but she was a good enough friend to keep our secret anyway. There are two professors who know, and the veela were able to figure it out on their own — they have an ability to sense such things. And, well, they're French."

"You, Ron, are only the third student we've told," Hermione said. "The third friend. I hope you understand what that means?"

Ron considered that. "Yeah, I think so. You may have waited a year to tell me, but I'm one of the first friends you've deliberately told. The second friend, in fact, since Ginny was an accident. And I wasn't a good friend a year ago, so I can hardly feel offended that I'm 'only' the second." He visibly relaxed at this point, now understanding that what had at first looked like a snub was anything but.

"The question now is, how do you feel about this?" Hermione asked. "About us? Do you think you'll be able to stay our friend now that you know? Will you be able to accept our relationship?"

"And of course, keep our secret, regardless of how you feel," Jasmine added.

Now Ron frowned as he struggled to find the right words. "I... I guess... I don't know," he finally said. "I mean, it's weird, you know? It doesn't seem right. At the same time, it's still you. And it explains a lot of things I've been wondering about. The two of you are the same girls I was friends with last month. If I was able to be friends with you before I knew, shouldn't I be able to be friends with you now?"

"The phrasing is a bit awkward," Neville said, "but that's actually perceptive."

"More than you realize," Hermione agreed, looking impressed.

"Oi!" Ron exclaimed testily. "I'm not a _complete_ idiot."

"Neville is right, though," Jasmine said. "That is perceptive of you. And you're right, too: we're the same today as we were last month. If you could be our friend then, you should be able to manage now."

"But that doesn't mean it won't be weird for you, especially when you see us hold hands, hug, or kiss," Hermione added, and Ron's face went red, thus proving her point. Ginny also shifted uncomfortably, but only Neville noticed. "We understand if it takes you a bit of time to get used to it. We wouldn't expect you to be able to instantly accept it without reservation. We just ask that if you have any problems with this, that you talk to us. Or maybe to Neville or Ginny, if you feel awkward talking to us directly."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I can do that. I'll try — I mean that, I'll really try. I'm going to keep my promise about being a better friend. I just... I don't know how easy it will be."

"We're asking you to ignore prejudices that have been passed along in wizarding Britain for generations," Jasmine said. "We know it's a lot. But we think the friendship the three of us share is worth it." The smile she got from Ron in return told them all that he would indeed work hard at it.

"So, what was the other big secret you wanted to tell us?" Neville asked.

"What, there's more?" Ron asked in surprise.

Jasmine snorted, "That was the least of our secrets, Ron." She and Hermione then proceeded to tell them about being soul bonded, the veela prophecy and how it happened to connect with the creation of S.P.E.W., and the ritual celebrations they'd been performing. The only things they left out were the rest of the prophecy about Voldemort and the existence of his horcruxes — the former didn't change the likely need for Jasmine to confront Voldemort, and the latter would hopefully not require the involvement of any of their friends.

When the girls were finished, their three friends were all flabbergasted at what they'd just heard.

"That's... that's unbelievable." Ron exclaimed.

"Only you two would have to deal with _two_ prophecies," Neville said, shaking his head.

"Those rituals are a lot more meaningful, now, I think," Ginny said.

"You've been part of them?" Ron asked.

"Not at first," Ginny answered. "But I joined them for the three they did last term."

"What were they like?" Neville asked.

"They were... amazing." Ginny answered. "I can't begin to tell you what an amazing experience they all were. And I feel so much better, too! Every time, I feel stronger, more confident, school work is easier... It's incredible. And now I learn that it might be part of something even bigger and more important! I'm even more excited about the next one!"

"That will be Imbolc, at the end of January," Jasmine said. "It was the first ritual we ever participated in."

"So what are your plans going forward?" Neville asked.

"To continue as we have been," Jasmine said. "We were told not to try to manipulate the prophecy, but instead to simply be mindful of the ways we might help it along. It could be something big, like encouraging others to participate in more rituals, or something small, like encouraging another witch in her studies."

"The way we understand it," Hermione said, "is that the prophecy comes from Magic, and Magic opens up opportunities for us to help fulfill it. We can choose to do so or not, which is why we still have free will. The more of those opportunities we take advantage of, and the more we make of those opportunities, the closer we'll come to the best possible outcome — or at least the outcome that Magic desires."

"That Magic desires?" Ron asked. "How can magic desire anything?"

"Many believe that Magic — the source of the magic we use for spells — is at least partially sentient," Hermione explained. "It's not a self-aware person like us, but it has basic desires — things it wants or avoids. It's why will and intent are necessary for our magical spells to work. It's also why magical contracts function. Prophecies, so the belief goes, are part of how Magic communicates its desires to us."

"And this prophecy is expressing a desire for... what?" Neville asked, looking intrigued. "Female-only rituals? Equality?"

"It's hard to say for sure," Jasmine said. "Prophecies are sort of ambiguous like that. But I think it's most likely a desire for more of the feminine aspect of magic to be used, because I can see how the lack of that might negatively affect Magic. Greater equality for witches and the celebration of more rituals is part of that, but more as a means to an end."

" _We_ might care more about social and political equality," Hermione pointed out, "but Magic isn't a person. It might have desires, but we shouldn't assume that those desires look anything like our own. Fortunately, fulfilling our desires will probably help achieve what Magic is seeking, so we're all working together."

Ron let out a long sigh. "You two don't do anything by halves, do you? You're dating, even though our entire society would ostracize you for it. You have a soul bond, one of the rarest magical bonds ever. You're destined to kill the worst Dark Lord in centuries. You have _two_ prophecies about you, one of which is a thousand years old. You're involved in ancient practices that channel more magical power than anyone can imagine. And you're expected to reform magical society across the world. I mean, how do you even get out of bed in the morning?'

Jasmine and Hermione both smiled as they looked from Ron, to Neville, to Ginny. "We have good friends who help keep us going," Jasmine said simply, eliciting expressions first of surprise, then of warmth from all three.

Except for Ginny, who also looked guilty.

* * *

 **Monday, January 3, 1996, Afternoon.**

"What is it, Ginny?" Neville asked when they were alone. "Something has been bothering you all day. I can tell — and it's not... well, not the obvious reason. There's something else."

Ginny gave him a sidelong look. "You're a bit too perceptive of a boyfriend, you know that?"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Neville said with a thin smile. "It's also an evasion. Come on, out with it."

" _Definitely_ too perceptive," Ginny said with a sigh. "I... I don't know how to say this. It's embarrassing, and it's been bothering me for months now."

"Does it have anything to do with Jasmine and Hermione?" Neville asked. When Ginny shot him a surprised look, he said, "I've noticed that you seemed uncomfortable around them at times, though I haven't been able to figure out why."

"I don't understand why myself, but I've been having trouble dealing with their relationship," she explained. "I mean, in principle, I don't have a problem with it, even though I think it's weird. I certainly don't want to see them punished for being together. No matter how weird or unnatural it is, it shouldn't be a crime. But... but... I get uncomfortable whenever I see them hug, kiss, or anything like that. Or even when I simply think about it. Then it's more than just weird. I keep wondering why they don't keep it to themselves. Why they force the rest of us to watch it."

Neville frowned. "I think you must be more bothered than you've been prepared to admit. I mean, the physical stuff... well, that's a big part of what a romantic relationship _is_. When Ron first saw us kissing and threw a fit, it wasn't just the kissing itself — it was the fact that you had a boyfriend, and he wasn't ready to accept that. The physical stuff is simply the most obvious sign."

"Ugh, that makes me feel even worse!" Ginny complained. "I like them both — they are incredibly good friends. I _hate_ being uncomfortable with their relationship!"

After giving the problem some thought, Neville asked, "Do you remember how I held you in the hospital? And how I had my arm around you at the funeral? My doing that made you feel better, right?"

Ginny nodded, not sure why he had changed the subject. "Yes, of course. As bad as I felt just then, it helped a lot to know you were there for me."

"Well, think about the fact that Jasmine and Hermione don't have that right now," Neville said. "This is the most important relationship they'll ever have, and they can't even hold hands in public. They can't show support for each other beyond what's considered normal for friendship, no matter whose funeral they're at or how much pain they might be in. They always have to be on their guard against letting something slip... and all because some people think their relationship is 'unnatural' and don't want to have to see it." His tone was gentle, but he looked at her a little pointedly.

Ginny's expression was stricken. "I... I never thought of it quite like that before. So... what do I do?" she asked in a whisper.

"Well, that's the thing about prejudice: we inherit this stuff from our families and society as a whole, and we don't even realize it until one day the issue comes up and wham! We get smacked in the face with beliefs we didn't even know we held." Ginny nodded glumly. "But you know, we don't _have_ to think the same way our parents did. For example, our society looks down on muggleborn, yet we know better, right? Well, this is kind of the same. The idea that these relationships are wrong isn't a **fact** , it's an **opinion** you bought into because you were raised with it. But that doesn't mean you have to hold it for the rest of your life. If it doesn't match your experience — and I think we both agree that it doesn't — then maybe it's time to start thinking differently."

Ginny looked pensive but didn't say anything. "If it helps," Neville went on, "try to stop thinking about them as witches first and foremost. Instead, think of them simply as people who love each other. Think about us being in their position and how you'd want others to react. And whenever you catch yourself feeling uncomfortable, remember that you're allowed to decide for yourself — nobody's forcing you to condemn their relationship."

Ginny drew in a deep breath and let it out again. "You're right. I'll definitely work on it — I promise." He held out his arms to her, and she gratefully moved into them. "How'd you get to be so wise?" she asked against his chest.

Neville smiled down at her. "Hermione asked me that once. I told her I spend a lot of time hanging around smart witches." His tone grew serious again. "In this case, though, I had some of the same feelings at first — though not as bad as you, I'm guessing."

"And?" she said expectantly. "What did you do?"

He shrugged. "I decided that they were my friends, and that I wasn't going to be a prat about it."

"It's that simple, huh?"

"It's that simple."

* * *

 **Monday, January 3, 1996, Late Night.**

Hermione sat in bed, looking back over the notes she'd made earlier that day and adding new ideas for avenues of research. After telling their story to their friends, she and Jasmine had disappeared so they could interrogate Walburga's portrait to learn everything they could about horcruxes. She hadn't been happy telling them such things, but like Sirius, she understood the need and censored her information to that which might prove useful in finding and destroying them.

 _Tomorrow I'll have to talk to Sirius, then hopefully he'll let me research some of these related subjects_ , she thought. _Maybe I can even talk to Walburga again. She might be able to help me narrow my focus to save time._ She frowned at the thought of the portrait, wondering how she was going to proceed, but then set that issue aside. _I still have time to decide._

After putting out the lights, she rolled over and snuggled into Jasmine's sleeping form. Sirius hadn't _actually_ given them a room together — her father would have had a heart attack at that — but he had moved Hermione to the room next to Jasmine's, then pointed out the hidden door between them. So long as both outer doors were tightly locked, no one would notice what went on inside.

Sirius had even gone to great lengths describing the effectiveness of the silencing charms he'd placed on the rooms and Jasmine's en suite. Both witches blushed furiously and Hermione had wanted to hex him, but Jasmine later pointed out that behaving in such an over-the-top manner was likely just a coping mechanism for him.

 _She's probably right, too_ , Hermione concluded as she molded herself against Jasmine. _He probably has no idea how to deal with two witches like us, so trying too hard to behave in a manner that passes as "normal" for him might be the best he can manage right now. It's certainly better than walking on eggshells or avoiding us._

 _That doesn't mean that I'm not going to get him back, though..._

* * *

 **Wednesday, January 5, 1996, Afternoon.**

"Hey, Sirius."

"Tonks! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work, catching dark wizards?"

"Yeah — uh, can we talk, Sirius? Privately?"

"Of course — let's go into the sitting room."

Once they were behind a silenced and sealed door, Tonks fidgeted nervously before finally bringing herself to speak. "You know how I haven't been getting interesting assignments since right before the end of the summer? Just routine and boring stuff?" Sirius nodded. "Well, I was called in to see Scrimgeour this morning for a new assignment. It's interesting. Maybe important, too."

"Great!" Sirius said. "What is it?"

"Uh, that's the problem," Tonks responded, her nervousness increasing a couple of notches. "I can't say. Before he was willing to give me the assignment, he insisted that I take an extra security oath to not tell anyone what I'm doing. That's got me worried, Sirius. Do you think... do you think they don't trust me? That they maybe know about my work with the Order?"

Sirius considered that. "It's a fair bet," he said slowly. "All the evidence fits. Shacklebolt has been in a similar situation, too."

"What am I going to do?"

Sirius sighed. "Clearly they either don't know for sure or don't mind _too_ much, otherwise they'd have fired you. Or worse. But you are going to have to make some hard decisions."

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you join the Order in the first place?" he asked.

"Well, to help stop You-Know-Who, of course."

"But more importantly, because the Ministry wasn't doing anything, right?" Tonks nodded. "Well, the Ministry is acting now — not as fast as I'd like, maybe, but is the Order doing a lot better? Is it doing anything truly critical?"

Tonks shook her head and said ruefully, "Ever since Jasmine, Hermione, and the Grangers chewed us out over things we could be doing, I've noticed that what little we _have_ been doing hasn't been significant. And then Arthur gets killed over what? Guarding a room that others can't steal from anyway? Why put so much time and effort into guarding that room, but none into preparing safe houses, training, or anything else?"

"I think you need to put your career first. Unless and until the Ministry starts going in the wrong direction again, they were the ones you first swore loyalty to."

"I suppose you're right," Tonks admitted. "It's a difficult situation to accept."

"Like I said, though, they can't be too upset with you," Sirius reminded her, "otherwise, they wouldn't be giving you such a great assignment."

"True!" she said, her mood brightening.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Sirius asked. "I know you can't tell me what you're doing, but that doesn't mean that I can't do anything at all."

Tonks thought for a moment, then said, "I don't suppose you still have any old books with unusual or powerful spells? In particular, I'm looking for detection spells."

Sirius frowned. "Just to be clear, you aren't doing anything that will put you against the family, will it?"

"No!" Tonks replied quickly. "Nothing like that at all. You just brought Mum back into the family, and I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that."

"Good," Sirius said as he got up out of his chair. "In that case, I can introduce you to a valuable resource. But you can't tell anyone else about it — especially not Dumbledore or the Order."

"Sure, Sirius, what is it?" Tonks asked as they left the sitting room.

"I'm going to key you into the Black Family Library, my dear Nymphadora," Sirius announced — just before he started running to avoid getting hexed.

* * *

 **Friday, January 7, 1996, Afternoon.**

"So, Moony," Sirius said casually, "have you ever noticed how close Jasmine and Hermione are?"

Remus frowned into his drink, suddenly feeling a disturbing amount of deja vu. "Uh, yes, I guess so?" He looked around the kitchen and realized that this was one of the rare evenings that the place wasn't bustling with Order members. Even Molly wasn't puttering nearby, though she was understandably doing less of that than she used to.

In fact, now that he thought about it, he realized that the only people in the house were him, Sirius, the two girls, and the youngest veela. Everyone else was conveniently out for the evening.

"I'm guessing you must have seen a lot of them when you were teaching them in their third year," Sirius continued in a voice that Remus now realized was a _deliberate_ attempt to sound casual. He knew Sirius far too well not to recognize when his friend was setting him for something. "Did they seem as close then?"

"They were pretty close, yes, but I think they're closer now," Remus replied, sipping his drink slowly. Then at the last second, he added, "As close as you and James, in fact."

Sirius spit out his drink and coughed hard. "No," he said hoarsely as he tried to breathe. "We weren't that close. Definitely not that close."

"Oh, I don't know," Remus countered, all innocence. "They remind me so much of you two. I often imagine the two of them walking the same path that I know you and James were once on."

Sirius looked a bit bug-eyed at that, and Remus had to pinch himself under the table to keep from laughing. "In fact," he continued, "I'm sure those two get up to all sorts of the same things that you and James once did with each other."

Now Sirius looked positively ill. "Moony, I, uh, I have something I need to tell you about Jasmine and Hermione," he said quickly, all pretense of casualness now dropped.

"Oh?"

"Yes, they, uh... well..." Sirius stammered, apparently having lost his nerve around the time that he nearly lost his dinner.

"Come on, spit it out," Remus encouraged him, having long since figured out where this conversation was going.

"It's just that... they, well..." Sirius continued, holding up one finger from each hand and putting them side-by-side in a pathetic attempt to communicate something that only he seemed to understand.

Eventually, Remus decided to take pity on his old friend. "Are you by any chance referring to the fact that Jasmine and Hermione are a romantic couple?"

"Well, yeah, uh..." Sirius started, then his head snapped up as he fixed the werewolf with an expression that was equal parts incredulity and outrage. "What? You knew? When did you know?"

"Oh, I've known for quite some time now," Remus said casually. "You mean you didn't?"

"I just found out a few days ago!"

"Hm." was Remus' only reaction as he looked at Sirius and sipped his drink.

"How did you find out?" Sirius demanded.

"I'm smarter than you," Remus answered serenely.

"There's no way that you're smarter than me," Sirius protested.

"Who was made prefect in our fifth year?"

"That only meant you were more _responsible_ than I was," Sirius retorted. "Besides, that was ages ago."

"Who was hired as a professor at Hogwarts?"

"I was in prison!"

"Not helping your case there," Remus pointed out, causing Sirius to glower at him.

"I can't believe you knew already," Sirius said petulantly. Remus simply shrugged. "Well," Sirius continued, "there's a lot more I know that you don't."

"Oh, I doubt that," Remus drawled, trying to bait him.

"There's no doubt about it," Sirius insisted with a smug grin.

"Spying on their sex life isn't something you should be so proud of, you know."

"I do _not_ spy on my goddaughter having sex!" Sirius shouted in exasperation, then went completely still, realizing how loud he had been.

" **What?!** " came two teen witches' voices from the sitting room.

 _Now_ Remus laughed.

* * *

 **Friday, January 7, 1996, Evening.**

Once Remus explained that he had simply been goading Sirius into embarrassing himself, Jasmine and Hermione were mollified. Sirius, though, kept glaring at Remus while muttering about getting revenge.

Remus didn't worry about that... much. He was glad that the girls had joined the conversation and seemed willing to talk to him again. The reason for it soon became clear when they informed him about their soul bond.

"Wow," he said as he stared off into the distance, trying to digest this news. "That's not something I would have ever expected. Though, to be fair, I guess I wouldn't have expected you two to become a couple, either."

"Thanks for keeping our secret about that, by the way," Jasmine said. "That's, uh, important to us, for obvious reasons."

Remus smiled. "I never even thought about telling anyone else. Well, maybe Sirius, for all of ten minutes; but I knew that it was ultimately something you needed to handle on your own, if you chose to."

"Hey," Sirius said, suddenly frowning, "didn't we talk about this on Halloween?"

"No," said Remus with a perfectly straight face, and Sirius' frown only deepened as he struggled to piece together his hazy memories.

"Anyway," Remus continued, turning back to the girls, "I also knew that I couldn't earn your trust without demonstrating that I was trustworthy. So instead I simply kept my mouth shut and my eyes open. After all, if I could accidentally overhear you through a door, someone else might manage it as well."

"No one has, have they?" Hermione asked.

Remus shook his head. "Not that I've been able to tell. Although it was quite obvious to me that you act like a couple once I knew, no one else seems to have figured it out."

Jasmine looked deep in thought, then appeared to come to a decision. "Say, Remus? Sirius has already been telling me stories about my parents, but do you know any that he might not remember?"

"Absolutely," he said with a smile. "In fact, Sirius wouldn't be able to remember some of the best."

"What?" Sirius exclaimed, startled from his brooding.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Because some of the best ones involve him and James being roaring drunk at the time," Remus answered. He ignored Sirius' squawk of protest and proceeded to tell a few stories of Jasmine's father behaving in some highly inappropriate ways. He hadn't intended to share some of them for a few years yet, but with Jasmine involved in a soul bond, he figured she was more mature than her physical age.

He also knew that he still had a lot of lost ground to recover with her. She and Hermione seemed to be warming back up to him, slowly, but they obviously didn't trust him as much as they did Sirius. He knew that there was even more going on than the soul bond, but he didn't dare press. They would confide in him in time.

He hoped.

* * *

 **Monday, January 10, 1996, Afternoon.**

"Amelia!" Sirius exclaimed, grinning broadly as he entered her office. "Have you finally reconsidered my invitation to have dinner?"

"Business, Sirius. Business," she replied as she pointed to the chair on the other side of her desk. "Sit."

"Woof!" he said as he sat, never losing his grin.

Bones rolled her eyes but didn't take the bait. Leaning forward, she said bluntly, "I need to know what Arthur Weasley was doing in the Department of Mysteries last month."

Sirius' grin immediately disappeared. "Why do you think I know?" he asked evasively.

"Sirius, the investigation has stalled," she said. "We barely have any idea _what_ killed him, and we have no idea at all _why_ he was killed. Right now, finding out why he was down there is our only hope of getting any leads on this case and maybe catching his killer. Or don't you want his murder to be solved?"

"That's not fair!" Sirius retorted. "Arthur was a good man!"

"Of course he was," Bones agreed. "That's why I want to catch his killer. Why don't you help me?"

Sirius fidgeted for a few moments before conceding, "I may know some things, but nothing I can tell you right now." Before she could protest, he quickly continued, "Some of the secrets I know aren't mine to tell. I've made promises that I'm not going to break."

Bones calmed a little — just a little — then said, "Then what _can_ you tell me?"

"He wasn't down there for any nefarious purposes," Sirius said.

"I already knew that," she said impatiently. "No one suspects Arthur of being involved in anything that would hurt the Ministry. Well, no one sensible — Fudge and his cronies have their own reality that they are lost in, I suppose. But that doesn't mean that there isn't some other threat to the Ministry that he knew about."

His guilty look told her that she was on the right track. "Let me talk to a couple of people," Sirius finally offered. "Maybe, with their permission, I can tell you more?"

Bones sighed. "Something tells me that's the best I'll get out of you today. But you need to understand that this case is already getting old. Before long it may be too old to solve even if you do talk. So whatever you can tell me, I'll need it as soon as possible."

"I'll talk to them as soon as I can," Sirius promised as he stood. "Now, I don't suppose I can still interest you in—"

"Go on, Sirius," Bones said as she pulled out a file to work on. "Time is running out."

"Fine, fine," he muttered as he left her office, wondering if maybe he'd lost his touch after all.

* * *

 **Tuesday, January 11, 1996, Evening.**

"Excuse me, Miss Potter, Miss Granger, but do you have a few minutes?"

Jasmine looked up from her book and was surprised to see the Headmaster standing in the doorway to the sitting room, waiting expectantly.

"Um... sure, I guess so," she responded, putting her book aside. Sirius was right behind him as Dumbledore entered the room and sat slowly on one of the chairs. "Is there a problem?" she asked while looking at Sirius, but he simply shrugged.

"I honestly don't know whether it qualifies as a problem or not," Dumbledore said, "but it is interesting. Yesterday, Hagrid came to my office with a message — a message from the centaurs, if you can believe it. I think I can count on one hand the number of times the centaurs have done such a thing in all the years I've been at Hogwarts."

"That is odd," Sirius agreed.

"Are you familiar with a centaur named Bane, Miss Potter?" the Headmaster asked.

"Uh... yeah, I think so," Jasmine answered. "I think he was the one who was so upset with me when I had detention in the Forbidden Forest my first year."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I thought that was the same one. He sought Hagrid out to deliver a message from the entire herd. He said, and I quote, 'Tell the prophesied witch — the red-maned one — that Mars has been flaring bright, even more than it did before the eighth month was born.'"

"That's... odd," Jasmine responded.

"But not incomprehensible," Hermione chimed in. "You're a prophesied witch with red hair, Jasmine. The eighth month is August, and it was born on the first of the month — that was the day our houses were attacked."

"My thinking exactly, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "I don't suppose you've talked to the centaurs before about their methods of divining the future?"

"No, not at all," Jasmine replied. "But I'm guessing that Mars flaring is bad, huh?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "It can mean many things. The most obvious is some sort of violence, which would be in keeping with the events of August 1. But it can also be strife or even change. Are you aware of anything approaching?"

"No, not... Oh, Nott! There is one thing I've been meaning to bring up," Jasmine said. "I've been informed that Theodore Nott has been given a job to do in the castle — by Voldemort personally. And I've also been informed that Snape is trying to help."

"What?" Sirius exclaimed, shifting forward in his seat and gripping the armrests.

" _Professor_ Snape," Dumbledore corrected tiredly, then asked, "Where did you get this information, Miss Potter?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you," Jasmine replied, "but they are reliable. I wanted you to know that the head of Slytherin and a Slytherin student are conspiring against the school."

"I can assure you that things are well in hand and that Professor Snape has my full confidence."

"He's too much of a bully to have anyone else's confidence," Sirius retorted. "Are you seriously not going to do anything about this?"

"There's nothing more that needs to be done," Dumbledore said as he stood. "If you have nothing else that can shed light on the centaurs' message, I need to be going. I urge you, though, to keep your eyes open and be cautious."

Once he had left, the other three looked at each other in disappointment. "I can't believe he's not going to do anything," Sirius grumbled.

"I'm not surprised," Hermione said. "He's never been willing to listen to a bad word about Snape, no matter what he does. Some day his penchant for giving second chances to vile people will get him killed."

* * *

 **Thursday, January 13, 1996, Afternoon.**

"Mother? I had an idea I wanted to run by you."

"What is it, Sirius?"

"Given what Jasmine and Hermione told us last week, I think we need to prioritize the elimination of Voldemort even more than we have been," he said. "It was always important, obviously, but we incorrectly assumed that it was the most important thing she'd have to do for quite a while, perhaps even in her life. Now we know that he's more an obstacle to her doing what's truly important. A millennium-old prophecy made by the greatest seer in veela history trumps the ramblings of a drunken Trelawney in the Hog's Head."

Walburga nodded. "I agree. But what do you have in mind?"

"Our spy in Malfoy Manor should be used primarily either for emergencies or to find a way to arrange for a confrontation between Jasmine and Voldemort — a confrontation that will be on our terms and hopefully lead to a resolution that will be in our favor."

"What about the Ministry?" Walburga asked.

"I'm not as sure about that," Sirius admitted. "I'd like to think that if we feed Amelia the right information, we can get her on our side for when the time comes. Having one or two dozen aurors backing Jasmine up would make me feel a lot better. I'm not sure what to tell her."

Again, the portrait nodded. "That's a good idea, Sirius, and we shall have to look carefully at what information we release. Jasmine Dorea stands a much better chance of beating him if we can control the conditions under which they meet, even a little bit. Alright, we'll all start focusing on how we might bring about such a confrontation at a time and place of our choosing. But do you think she's ready? And what does she say about it?"

"She agrees that it's probably the best approach. She's not eager to face him again, but she'd rather do it on her terms than on his. And she still doesn't trust the Headmaster enough to take care of something like that, though she's warmed up a bit to him lately." Sirius sighed. "I don't know if anyone can ever be truly ready for such a fight, but I don't see it happening right away regardless. Every day more she has is another day of preparation. And in the end, she'll have Hermione by her side. Together, I think they have a chance."

* * *

 **Friday, January 14, 1996, Afternoon.**

Xenophilius Lovegood quietly stepped into his daughter's room and marveled at the work she had done to it. He remembered reacting with tolerant amusement when she announced upon returning home for the holidays that she was going to repaint her room — he was more than willing to indulge her in whatever would make her happy. Day by day, though, his amusement had turned into wonder as Luna transformed her bedroom into a monument to friendship.

Across the ceiling were thirteen faces of young people she'd gotten to know at Hogwarts. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Wizard and witch. British and French. Winding around all of them were delicate golden chains made not from painted links, but rather from a single word repeated thousands of times: _friends_.

"What do you think, Daddy?" Luna asked, startling him out of his musings. "It's nearly done."

"It's truly amazing work, Luna my dear," he responded. "I never realized you had such a talent for art and painting."

"Neither did I," she answered. "I guess I was simply inspired."

"If only everyone could experience such inspiration, even once in their lives," Xeno said absently.

"Have you, Daddy?" Luna asked, looking up at him.

"Yes," he said as he smiled down at her. "Twice, in fact. The first was when I married your mother. The second was when you were born."

Luna smiled herself and leaned in to hug her father.

"I'm proud of you, you know," Xeno said. "Not just for this amazing work, but for what you're doing at school. The friends you're making, what you're learning from them, what you've started writing for _The Quibbler_ — all of it. And your mother would have been proud as well."

"Thank you, Daddy," she said softly.

Eventually Xeno said, "The holiday break will be over soon. Is there anything you want to do before you have to leave?

Luna thought about that. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to make Plimpy soup before I leave?"

"Of course I can," Xeno said. "But only if you gather up the ingredients. This time of year, it will be easier to catch the Freshwater Plimpies around sunset, remember."

"I'll go down to the stream Sunday evening," Luna said. "That way we can have the soup as part of a going away dinner."

* * *

 **Saturday, January 15, 1996, Afternoon.**

"Do you have a few minutes?" Hermione asked as she entered Sirius' bedroom.

"Certainly," Elladora said. "Is something wrong? I didn't expect to see either of you al—"

"I was curious about your name," Hermione said without preamble as she sat down.

"My... my name?" Elladora repeated, confused.

"Yes, it's a lovely name. Interesting, too. Ella. Dora. I did some research — 'Dora' derives from the Greek word for gift. The connection between Dora and Dorea was obvious, especially with another Dorea in the Black family." Hermione smiled. "Jasmine's middle name is Dorea, and she's named after Dorea Black, Walburga's favorite aunt, so I've heard quite a bit about her."

Elladora nodded, clearly unsure where this was going.

"Ella, though, was harder to figure out. Its origins aren't clear, but one popular theory is that it comes from the ancient Greek _aella_ , which makes sense given that Dora and Dorea are Greek as well." The more Hermione talked, the more confused Elladora became.

"Aella means 'whirlwind' in ancient Greek," Hermione continued, "which I learned when I found that one of our friends is naming her baby that in honor of me. When I heard what the name meant, it made me think of a verse from the Bible, Hosea 8:7 'For they sow the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.' Have you ever heard that one?"

"Uh, no I don't—" Elladora tried to answer.

"Elladora. Ella... Dora. Gift of the Whirlwind." She paused and looked thoughtful. "It reminds me quite a bit of the author of a book I have — a book which must have caused a veritable storm of controversy in its day. She called herself Dorea Tempest Pureheart." Elladora went very still, and Hermione met her gaze directly for the first time. "Did you spend much time with the veela?" she asked.

"Much...? Excuse me?"

"The veela," Hermione repeated. "When you were gathering information for your book, did you spend much time with the veela? As you know, I've been spending a lot of time with them myself, participating in their rituals and of course learning about their views on sex and intimacy. I realized early on that there were an awful lot of similarities between what you wrote and what the veela believe."

"I... I..." Elladora faltered, but all at once she sagged as she recognized the futility of protest. "Yes," she said softly, "yes, I did."

Hermione stood up and walked forward until she was right in front of Elladora's portrait. "I want you to know," she said quietly, "that I consider you my hero. Your book changed my life in so many ways that I can't even begin to describe it, much less properly thank you. But I do thank you, and some day I hope that I can have as much positive influence on others as you've had on me."

She reached out and gently touched the canvas, then turned and left the room without another word.

Back on the wall, Elladora wrapped her arms around herself, took a deep, ragged breath, and dearly wished that portraits could weep.

* * *

"Madam Black, may I have a few minutes of your time?" Hermione asked as she entered the warded portrait room. "Alone?"

"Certainly, Miss Granger," Walburga responded, and the other frames all emptied. "Is there a problem?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't think so," Hermione answered. "You don't have a problem with... well, with Jasmine and me being a couple, do you?"

"I can't say that I personally approve," Walburga admitted. "It's simply not how I was raised or lived. But, given the circumstances, I would be foolish to oppose it."

"Circumstances?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. One thing that we Blacks are instilled with above everything else is to respect Magic," Walburga explained. "If your relationship is not merely permitted by Magic, but willed and blessed by it, then I'd be going against some of my most fundamental beliefs if I rejected you two."

"Ah, you mean the soul bond," Hermione said.

"Yes, exactly," Walburga replied. "Unfortunately I doubt that everyone will feel the same way about your soul bond. That sort of respect for Magic isn't taught in every family."

"Family is important to you, isn't it?" Hermione asked.

"Absolutely," Walburga responded, standing a bit straighter. "In some ways, it's the most important thing."

Hermione nodded. "I wondered if that was part of why you chose to live in this house. To remain connected to family."

"What do you mean?" Walburga asked.

"Well, it's situated right in the middle of muggles," Hermione clarified. "You do remember that, right?"

"Of course I remember where my own house is," Walburga said, sounding a bit offended. "What you don't realize is that this area wasn't always filled with muggles. At one time, Grimmauld Place was a single, isolated manor. But slowly muggle housing encroached on us, and as our fortunes declined, we had to sell off pieces. Even to muggles."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "Yes, it's all so much clearer now."

"What are you talking about?" Walburga asked, her frustration starting to show. "What is the point of all of these questions?"

Hermione walked forward until she was a few inches from the portrait, right in line with Walburga's face. "I know what you are, Madam Black."

"Excuse me? What do you mean by that?"

"I know what you are. And _who_ you are," Hermione responded. "I know that you _are_ Walburga Black, not simply a portrait. And I know why."

"Wh-what do you... you can't... I mean, you just..." Walburga stammered, stepping back and almost tripping over her chair when she tried to sit in it. "How?" she finally asked hoarsely.

"It took a while, but all the clues were there," Hermione explained. "Your knowledge of horcruxes, and the fact that you can do things which are not only impossible for portraits, but which require a _soul_."

Walburga sagged, looking defeated. "I probably should have realized that something like this might happen, what with how often Sirius has praised your intelligence." Expecting the worst, she asked quietly, "What are you going to do?"

"I've been wondering about that for a bit now," Hermione admitted. "In the end, I don't think I'll do anything."

Walburga looked up, her expression somewhere between hope and disbelief. "Really? Why?

"Most importantly, because you've been so helpful," Hermione answered. "You were by all accounts an evil woman while alive and used an utterly vile process to create... this. Yet somehow, what you have become isn't evil. I'm not sure how _good_ you are, but you aren't evil, and you aren't an enemy. So long as you continue to demonstrate that by being as helpful as you have been, I don't see any reason to take action. I can't forgive you for all you've done because it's simply not my place — you haven't done anything to me. But I can do my best to give you a chance to redeem yourself and become better than you were."

Walburga nodded. "Thank you."

"However," Hermione went on, "I think you should tell Sirius."

Walburga's eyes widened in horror. "No! I can't do that! He hated me while I was alive, and he despises the Dark Arts! I'm everything he's ever loathed most in the world! He's only been able to arrive at a civil, polite relationship with me because he thinks I'm only a portrait!"

"But you're not a portrait," Hermione pointed out. "You're his mother. Somehow, in some fashion, you _are_ his mother. By not telling him this, you're denying him a chance to truly reconnect and reconcile with a parent he believes to be dead and gone." She paused while Walburga thought about this, then continued, "I'm not saying that it will be easy. I'm not saying that he will instantly forgive you. In fact, I'm sure he won't. But I think you two are missing out on having a much better relationship. I think that the truth will go a long way toward healing both of you."

Slowly, Walburga nodded again. "You... make some good points."

"Think about it, OK?" Hermione asked. "Goodbye, Madam Black."

"Miss Granger?" she called out before the younger witch reached the door. Hermione turned and gave the portrait a questioning look. "Call me Walburga?" Hermione smiled and nodded, then exited the room.

Back on the wall, Walburga put her head in her hands, a tear slowly rolling down her cheek.


	35. Sunday Bloody Sunday

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic isn't a Harry Potter fic at all, it's wildbow's web serial _Worm_. It's dark enough that it's definitely not for everyone, but I still recommend it. This is story where everyone is broken and everyone is struggling to get by, often making poor decisions in the process. A good subtitle would be "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

* * *

 **Chapter 35 - Sunday Bloody Sunday**

 **Sunday, January 16, 1996, Evening.**

Bellatrix nodded to Mulciber as he led his smaller force away towards the Lovegood home. They had decided to portkey in together at a point between the Lovegoods and the Weasleys, far enough away from the wards that they would escape detection until they were ready to start their attacks. Bellatrix herself led the larger of the two groups of recent Death Eater recruits — including a few that her master had brought in from the continent — towards the ramshackle building which the ginger blood traitors called "home."

 _It's disgusting, is what it is_ , Bellatrix thought as they crested the last hill and the Weasley home came into view. _How could any self-respecting witch or wizard bring themselves to live in... oh, that's right — they don't respect themselves because they don't respect Magic. If they did, they wouldn't be blood traitors!_ Bellatrix cackled to herself over her joke, making the new recruits even more nervous than they already were.

Once they were close enough, she ordered them to surround the house to prevent escape. _People who commit treason against the magic of their blood don't even deserve to be called witches and wizards. I've been looking forward to putting an end to this family's blood for a long, long time; maybe tonight I'll get the excuse I need._

Once it was time, she and the three strongest recruits began to attack the house's protections, discovering that they were quite a bit more robust than when she visited in early December. "Work harder!" she commanded. "This is going to take longer than I thought." The others redoubled their efforts, and soon their work was rewarded with a crash as the wards collapsed.

She then ordered the three recruits to cast their own anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards while she and the rest of the Death Eaters converged on the house from all directions, a sight that Bellatrix was certain would incite panic in everyone in the house... except there was no reaction at all. In fact, the house was entirely dark, and there hadn't been any sort of reaction even when they had been attacking the wards — something that surely would have been noticed.

"Careful," she commanded. "It could be a trap."

When no hostile spells could be detected, they burst through the front and back doors, only to find—

Nothing. The house was completely empty.

Bellatrix flew into a rage. Screaming as she cast curses left and right, she destroyed furniture and household effects with equal vigor, sending debris flying in all directions. When the worst of her fury was spent, she realized that her team had already fled the building and was standing around outside, looking somewhat nonplussed. None of the plans had allowed for the possibility that the targets might not be home.

Mustering the tattered remnants of her composure, she stalked outside and personally began sending explosive fireballs into every part of the house she could see, creating a pillar of flames that would be visible for miles around.

"Let's go," she barked, still furious that the first stage of her own part in tonight's attacks had been such a complete failure. "We'll head to the rendezvous for the attack on the Bones home and wait for the others."

* * *

Luna was skipping home with a nice bunch of Freshwater Plimpies in her bag, eagerly looking forward to her father's famous Plimpy soup. _I wonder if I can take some with me to Hogwarts tomorrow so the others can try?_ she thought, longing for some way to share something of her home and family with all of her wonderful friends. Almost as soon as she exited the trees, her happy mood evaporated as she saw four men firing spells into her home. Occasionally she saw a spell or two come out of one of the first-floor windows, but they all went wild because her father didn't have time to aim properly.

"Hurry up," she heard one of the black-robed figures shout. "We need to get in there and kill the girl before the deadline! We can't be late for the attack on the Greengrass home!"

"Quiet, _idiota!"_ shouted another in a strange accent. "If you keep announcing our plans like that, you won't survive the night!"

Luna's eyes narrowed as she began to understand what was happening. _They're here for_ _ **me**_ _. They're going after Daphne next. They're attacking_ _ **all**_ _of us — all of my_ _ **friends**_ _._

The Plimpies were forgotten as Luna pulled out her wand, crouched down low, and willed her father to hold out long enough for her to be able to help. Being focused on their attack, no one saw her as she approached the most isolated of the four from behind. Hours and hours of target practice ensured that her whispered _Confringo_ struck the figure in the center of his back despite having been cast from twenty meters away.

Between the long shadows cast by the woods and the glare of the setting sun behind her, she was able to move unseen before the other three could even start searching for the threat, and their shift in attention allowed her father to cast several spells of his own that were now much better aimed. None hit, but they were close enough to force the three attackers to move and focus on the house again. Another whispered _Confringo_ came out of the shadows, and another black-robed body was lying on the grass, broken and burning. Luna crouched low and once more retreated while her father's spells came ever closer to the remaining two assailants.

"We're wide open here — we can't fend off attacks from two directions," Luna heard one of them snarl in frustration. "Let's get to the rendezvous point and hope that the next target isn't so well defended." They cast several fireballs at the house, setting it alight in multiple places, before jogging a short distance from the house and apparating away.

Once they were gone, Luna ran for the house, incanting _"Auguamenti!"_ as soon as she was close enough.

"That looks like magical fire!" her father called as he stumbled through the remains of his front door. "Let me try to counter it."

"Daddy!" Luna rushed to embrace him, but she immediately let go when he groaned in pain. "Daddy?"

"It's not as bad as it looks," he said as he cast counter-charms at the house, putting out the fires before they could destroy it.

"But... your arm!"

"It's not cursed," he replied, gesturing with his wand to his limp and bleeding left arm. "A blasting curse caught me and the window frame at the same time. Broke the bone and sent several large splinters into me. I'm just glad you're alright," he whispered hoarsely, hugging her with his good arm. "That was dangerous, what you did. You should have simply run."

"And leave you to deal with them alone?" she asked, pulling back to look at him. "I would never do that. Besides, it's **me** they wanted in the first place. They were only attacking you to get to me."

"You? Why would anyone—" Realization suddenly dawned. "It's your friends, isn't it? Do you think they are in danger?"

"I'm sure of it," Luna answered. "I heard one of them mention Daphne's house being next. I need to warn people before it's too late!"

"I think it might already be too late for some," her father said sadly and pointed off in the distance. Luna turned around and gasped at the pillar of black smoke she could see over the hills, punctuated by the occasional gout of flame.

"Is that...?" she tried to ask.

"Yes, I think that's the Burrow."

"Then there's no time to waste," she declared. Two patronuses were sent off with messages before she started jogging towards the Burrow. She soon realized she wasn't alone and looked to her side to find her father jogging along with her.

"You didn't think I'd let you go alone, did you?" he said in response to her questioning look. "But you really must teach me that spell you used. It looked like a corporeal patronus, which you shouldn't even be able to cast; but you did something different with it, didn't you?"

Despite their dire circumstances, Luna smiled and began to explain how their study group had been learning to use patronuses as messengers as the two ran to see if they could help the Weasleys.

* * *

When Nigel Abbott apparated home after having gone to get ice cream for his pregnant wife, he was surprised and not a little concerned to find himself in a nearby alley instead of in his backyard as usual. It was when he stepped out of the alley, though, that he learned why the air smelled so much of smoke: his entire house was engulfed in flames. "Charlotte!" he shouted as he ran forward, still clutching the paper bag with her ice cream.

He had almost made it to the sidewalk in front of his house when he heard _"_ _ **Crucio!**_ _"_ behind him and collapsed to the street, writhing in agony. After what seemed like hours, the spell was cancelled and he felt that he could breathe again. When he looked around he saw that he was surrounded by a half dozen black-robed figures.

"Nigel Abbott, do you have a heart condition?" asked one that he thought he recognized.

"What?" he managed to gasp, only to have another torture curse cast on him in response.

"Do you have a heart condition," the familiar wizard asked again.

"N-no," Nigel answered.

"Good," the wizard said. "Apparently your wife does. If I'd had to interrogate her much longer, I'm quite sure she wouldn't have survived. Now that you're here, though, we can question you instead. If you're useful enough, maybe we won't have to return to her. That would be quite risky."

"Charlotte!" he choked as tears welled up in his eyes.

"Is that her name?" the wizard asked. "That's a pretty name. Not as pretty as my wife's, but pretty enough."

"Le-lestrange?" Nigel asked, finally recognizing the thick features and greying beard.

"So, you recognize me?" Rodolphus asked with a pleased smile. "Good — maybe it will save us some time if you already understand what you're facing. We're on a deadline, so let's make this quick. Where's your daughter?"

"M-my daughter?" Nigel said, blinking stupidly.

 _"_ _ **Crucio!**_ _"_

"Don't make me keep asking," Rodolphus said. "I may not have a lot of time to spend here, but I assure you that I can make that time more painful than you could possibly imagine. Now where's your daughter?"

"She... isn't here," Nigel wheezed.

 _"_ _ **Crucio!**_ _"_

"Obviously she's not here," Rodolphus growled. "If she were here, I'd have her already."

"Wh-why do you w-want Hannah?"

 _"_ _ **Crucio!**_ _"_

"You seem to have forgotten, but I'm asking the questions here, not you," Rodolphus said. "Tell us where your daughter is and the pain will stop. Refuse to answer and the pain will persist while I go back to questioning your wife... for as long as she's able to hold out, that is."

"M-my daughter... with friends," Nigel said before he could stop himself.

"Which friends?" Rodolphus demanded.

"B-b-bones."

"What luck!" Rodolphus exclaimed. "Some of our associates should already be there, and we'll be joining them shortly. We may get a chance to kill the little bitch yet."

"K-kill? Why?"

 _"_ _ **Crucio!**_ _"_

"Didn't I already tell you that we're the ones asking questions?" Rodolphus said with a laugh. "Let's go," he then said to the others. "We still have another stop to make tonight."

Once the echo of their cracks of apparition had faded, Nigel rolled over to look at his burning home. "Charlotte..." he whispered and began crawling towards the house.

* * *

Alfred and Honoria Davis had spent the afternoon with the Greengrass family, allowing themselves to be persuaded to stay for an early supper after delivering their daughter so she and the Greengrass sisters could catch the Hogwarts Express together the next morning. Upon trying to apparate into their backyard, they found themselves instead in the front yard of the house across the street, watching black-robed figures casting spells at their house.

Alfred instinctively began looking for cover, noting in the back of his mind that the protections on their home were holding up and that the structure was thus far undamaged. Unfortunately his wife's involuntary cry when she saw what was happening attracted all the wrong attention, and curses immediately started flying past them. He pulled hard on Honoria's arm and pushed her ahead of him as they rounded the front corner of their neighbor's house. That act spared her but resulted in him getting a blasting curse to his legs, turning them into a ruined mess as he tumbled to the ground and screamed in agony.

"Alfie!" his wife cried as she turned around and tried to help him up.

"It's no good, Nonie," he said through gritted teeth. "I won't be able to walk." He groaned as he rolled himself over and cast a couple of curses in the direction of the attackers, hoping to dissuade them from following too quickly. "Get out of here," he said. "I'll hold them off as long as I can."

Honoria herself cast a series of nasty curses where she thought she saw some movement in the fading light and was rewarded with a scream of pain. "Silly git," she said. "You think I'd ever leave you?"

She knelt down next to him and pulled his arm up around her shoulders. "Hold on tight," she told him. "I think I can get us both to St. Mungo's."

"Are you sure?" he gasped, barely stifling a shriek at having his legs moved.

"No, but it's better than staying here," she shot back. Taking a deep breath, she quickly apparated them away.

Moments later, several black-robed figures rounded the corner and found that their prey was already gone.

"Dammit!" Rabastan cursed. "You all better hope the rest of the night goes exceedingly well, because that's the only way the Dark Lord won't torture you all into insanity for letting those two get away. Now let's at least finish destroying the house, then we'll move on to the rendezvous point."

* * *

Padma Patil was picking at the food on her plate, lost in thought about a communications charm which Hermione had asked her to investigate and trying to ignore the giggling conversation Parvati and Lavender were having across the table. "Are you feeling alright, Padma?" her mother asked. "You've barely touched your dinner."

Padma had only just opened her mouth to answer when the entire house shuddered. Everyone looked around in confusion until her father declared, "Those were the protections on the house! Someone is breaking them down!"

Padma was on her feet in an instant. Looking at her sister, she said, "Check the front, I'm going to the back." Despite not having had nearly as much training, Parvati didn't hesitate to follow her sister's orders, and Lavender was right behind her.

"Girls, what are you doing?" her mother called out, but Padma wasn't paying any attention to her parents. After cutting the lights, her focus was entirely on the dark figures she could see moving outside some distance from the house. "I see a half dozen!" she called out. "Same here," she heard Lavender call back.

Suddenly her father was next to her. "The floo is blocked and we can't apparate out. I've sent your mother to the garden side of the house; I'll go to the other. I know you've been spending a lot of time trying to train with your friends, but... Padma, will you be alright alone?"

She looked up at him with grim determination. "They'll know they were in a fight," she said, and her father nodded reluctantly.

"Call if you need help," he said, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze.

Soon there was a sound like a loud gong. "That was the last of the wards falling!" she heard her father shout from the next room. Padma had already guessed that, given how the people outside were starting to send curses at the house, so she simply started casting her own through the windows. _"Confringo! Confringo! Ossus Fragmen! Confringo! Lacero! Lacero! Confringo!"_

When she paused to take stock of the situation, she could hear howls of pain outside, letting her know that at least a few of her curses had found their targets. Spells of all different colors began exploding against the back of the house with more than a few coming through the windows, forcing Padma to keep her head down.

With surprise now lost, she started moving randomly from one window to another and continued casting the worst curses she could think of. She had thought she understood when Hermione had told them about fighting for family and not caring how much she harmed their attackers, but now she realized she hadn't — not really.

She did now.

 _"Confringo! Lacero! Ossus Fragmen! Lacero! Lacero! Confringo! Confringo!"_

Some sort of cutting spell flashed by her, slicing her face and taking off a large chunk of her hair. She wiped at the blood with her sleeve and sent several curses of her own in the direction she thought that spell had come from. She could hear spells being cast elsewhere in the house, but she had no idea how the rest of her family was doing.

She kept moving though, and after what seemed like an eternity, her mother was beside her. "They seem to be focusing on the front and back," she explained, "and your father has gone to help your sister and Lavender with the front." Two wands meant double the defense, but it also created two targets for those outside, and the curses started coming in even faster.

Then there was a scream from the other side of the house, and the barrage of spells abruptly stopped. Padma gave her mother a frightened look and was about to say something when the whole house started shaking, causing them both to tumble to the floor. Suddenly there was an ominous cracking from the ceiling above them. Rolling over, Padma launched herself to where her mother was and cried, _"_ _ **Protego!**_ _"_ She got the shield up just in time as the ceiling chose that moment to collapse on the two of them.

Luckily the debris from the upper floor slid off her shield instead of piling up on top of it, thus creating a wall of plaster and wood around them. When she cancelled her shield, Padma could see that most of the house had come down around them. "Rajan and Parvi!" her mother gasped, and the two of them started crawling through the wreckage. The whole time Padma kept looking around for the attackers, but it seemed as though they had left once the house had been destroyed.

When they got to the remains of the front room, they found Lavender desperately digging through the debris, trying to free the others. Her father had thrown himself over Parvati, so he was pulled out first. Aside from being unconscious and covered in dust, he seemed to be in relatively good shape. Parvati, in contrast, was a mess: she was covered in blood, her face twisted in pain.

"I think they were after you," Lavender said quietly as they lifted Parvati's body out of the rubble. "A burly wizard with dark hair got in close enough to see her, then he hit her with some sort of purple curse — I never heard an incantation. When she fell, he shouted, 'That was Padma! The bitch is dead — now destroy the house so we can do the others.' I think he meant your group of friends."

Padma looked horrified, but before she could respond her mother pulled her away from her sister. "Your father is hurt, but not too seriously. The anti-apparition wards they must have cast earlier seem to be down now, so I'm apparating Parvi to the hospital. As soon as I can, I'll be back for your father. Watch over him until I return — do you understand?" Padma nodded dumbly and stepped over to her father's unconscious body as her mother apparated away with her severely — possibly fatally — injured sister. _It's all my fault_ , she thought, anguished. _They were here for_ _ **me**_ _, and she was the one they took it out on._

"Keshi?" she heard her father whisper as he started to come to.

"Mother has taken Parvi to St. Mungo's," she said as she knelt next to her father and took his hand in hers.

"The others?"

Padma looked up at Lavender, who had been moving around the remains of the room, looking in every direction for any sign of their attackers. She shook her head, and Padma turned back to her father. "No sign of them. I think they left once they brought the house crashing down on us."

"Why?" he asked softly. "What did we do to them?"

 _Nothing_ , Padma wanted to say. _**I'm**_ _the one who did this — it's_ _ **my**_ _fault, not yours._ But she couldn't bring herself to say it aloud.

A crack announced her mother's return; unfortunately, she chose to apparate right into the middle of the room and found two glowing wands pointed directly at her. "Whoa, wait, it's me! Sorry!" she said hastily, sounding more than a bit afraid. She'd seen some of the curses her Ravenclaw daughter had been using and must have known that they weren't all part of the standard curriculum.

"He's awake," Padma said as she made way for her mother.

"Not anymore," her mother responded as she examined him. "Concussion, probably." The two of them disappeared with another crack, leaving Padma and Lavender alone.

"Who do you think they were?" Lavender asked. "Do you think they were after everyone in your group, or just some?"

This broke Padma out of her self-recriminations and forced her to remember that others were in danger, too. She incanted _"_ _ **Expecto Patronum!**_ _"_ and a silvery-white tiger burst out of her wand. She whispered a message to it, and it rushed out of the remains of her home.

"Wow," Lavender said. "I know that was a patronus, but what did you just do with it?"

"It's a slight variation that lets us send messages," Padma said absently. "I told Jasmine that we were attacked, that others may be in danger, and that I and my family will be in St. Mungo's. I... I should have thought to send one out when we were first attacked. To call for help."

"It wouldn't have done any good," Lavender said, looking impressed. "The attack happened too fast. I just hope the others are warned in time."

"Me too," Padma whispered. "Me too."

* * *

Jasmine yawned and stretched in her chair at the kitchen table. Mrs. Weasley had gotten it in her head that she needed to bake something. Lots of somethings, in fact, and had been doing it since even before dinner. Everyone knew she was doing it to distract herself, so they decided to humor her by sitting in the kitchen, chatting amiably and eating the delicious fruits of her labor.

Even Mad-Eye was gracious enough not to check every piece he ate for poisons and potions.

"Tired already?" Sirius asked when she yawned again. "Maybe you should consider going to bed early. We've got an early morning tomorrow — that's why our escorts are staying over night."

"Lucky thing we are, too," Tonks said indistinctly through a mouthful of apple pie. "Otherwise these pies would have been left unprotected all night!" That earned her a quick half-smile from Mrs. Weasley — one of the few they'd managed to get out of her since she'd moved in.

"I suppose you're right," Jasmine said reluctantly. The impromptu gathering in the kitchen had been one of the most enjoyable evenings of the entire holiday break, despite the sadness of its origins, and she really didn't want it to end. Before she could stand up from her chair, though, a silvery-white rabbit bounded into the kitchen, jumped up on the table, and began speaking to her in Luna's voice:

 _"We've been attacked. Probably Death Eaters. Burrow in flames. Others in danger. Daphne is next. Please help her!"_

Barely a second passed before everyone started talking and shouting at once, but Jasmine and Hermione simply looked at each other. Decision made, Hermione raised her wand to cast a loud noise charm that got everyone's attention. "Others are in trouble," she said, "and we're going to help them." No one noticed Fleur and Gabrielle slip out the door.

"Listen, lass, you don't know who sent that," Mad-Eye objected, but Hermione immediately shut him down.

"That's Luna's rabbit," she said flatly. "We know it because we taught her and the others both the patronus charm and how to use it to send messages."

Tonks whistled. "Impressive."

"We don't know what's going on," Sirius argued.

"We know Luna's been attacked," Jasmine said. "The Burrow, too, most likely, but luckily the Weasleys are here."

"I'll see if I can make a floo connection," Bill announced as he stood. "If not, I'll apparate well away from the house and find out what's going on." Mrs. Weasley nodded reluctantly and watched him leave.

"Luna wouldn't have said that Daphne is next if she hadn't heard something," Hermione added. "So that's where we're going."

"In fact..." Jasmine muttered, then cast her own patronus, whispered to the stag, and sent it galloping out of the room. "I just warned Daphne and let her know that we're organizing help."

"The floo is down!" they heard Bill call. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"The rest of you need to go see if our other friends need help," Hermione continued. "Neville Longbottom, Blaise Zabini, Hannah Abbott, Tracey Davis. Padma Patil. Susan Bones."

"We don't know that anyone else is in danger," protested Remus. Before either of the girls could respond, a silvery-white tiger charged into the kitchen and stopped in front of Jasmine. Speaking in Padma's voice, it said:

 _"Family attacked. House destroyed. Parvi seriously injured. We and Lavender will be at St. Mungo's."_

No one doubted now that there was a series of attacks being launched against Jasmine's and Hermione's friends that night.

"We can probably skip the Patil residence, then, but there's still not enough of us here to go to every house," Tonks said.

"I can help," Ron said as he stood up.

"Me, too," said Ginny. "We've had plenty of training and—"

"No you won't!" their mother cried, becoming far livelier than anyone had seen her in weeks. "You're underage and you're staying here!"

"But Mum!" Ron protested. "If Jasmine and Hermione—"

"I don't think they should be going anywhere either!" Mrs. Weasley interrupted. She eyed the girls sadly. "Unfortunately, I have no say in what they do." Turning back to her two youngest children, she went on, "You two, however, I do have authority over, and you're not going anywhere!" She then aimed her steely gaze up at the twins. "Am I going to have a problem with you two as well?"

"Not a chance," one twin said, his hands raised in surrender.

"We know better than to try that," the second twin said.

"When you're around, at least," the first twin added, a bit more quietly.

"It's a good thing my parents went back to France this morning," Hermione whispered to Jasmine, "but it's a shame that Apolline and Adrienne went with them. We could use their help."

"There are only five adults here available to help if Molly stays behind to watch the place," Sirius announced, trying to bring everyone's attention back to the original topic. "I may not be able to stop these two from going, but there's no way I'm letting them go alone!"

"Who said zey would be going alone?" came a hard voice from the door. Everyone turned to look and gaped in disbelief at the sight of Fleur and Gabrielle in radiant golden armor. "Ze four of us will at least be able to hold our own."

Even Jasmine and Hermione were stunned at what they saw. The brilliant golden helms shaped like the heads of birds, breast plates, greaves, and bracers shone so brightly that it almost hurt to look at them.

Tonks leaned over towards Moody and said quietly, "Do you get the impression we're missing something important here?" Moody just grunted.

Before anyone else could say anything, a silvery-white fox entered the kitchen and stopped in front of Jasmine, where it spoke with Daphne's voice:

 _"House under attack. Apparition and portkeys blocked. Floo blocked. Tracey is with us. Wards holding, but don't know how long we'll last."_

"I guess that settles it," Mad-Eye said, taking charge of the situation. "It will take too long for aurors to form up and act, so we'll have to take care of it. Everyone takes a different student to check on, but you shouldn't go alone — call in another Order member to meet you there. Tonks, you head straight to the Ministry and get addresses, contact Emmeline Vance, then go to the Abbotts. Lupin, you go to the Longbottoms. The boy knows you. Send a patronus to Hestia Jones to join you. I'll go to the Davis house — I already know where they are. Black, you call in Shacklebolt, then go to the Zabinis." Jasmine and Hermione snickered as Sirius groaned.

"What about Susan Bones?" Tonks asked.

"Amelia is a high-priority target," Mad-Eye said. "I'll have Albus go there himself."

"I'll ensure that these four get to the Greengrass home," Sirius said as the others started filing out. He then led the four witches into the sitting room and asked, "I take it that you have some mysterious means for getting to your friends?"

"I think so," Jasmine said as Hermione cast her own patronus and sent it out with a message. "I could apparate to Hermione over the summer because I could feel her distress and... and I knew where she was. Somehow, I feel something similar when I concentrate hard on Daphne. It's not the same thing, but it's close enough."

"Me, too," Hermione said, "though I don't understand it any better than Jasmine does."

"I wonder if it's a side effect of having finalized your soul bond right after zat ritual?" Fleur suggested. "Remember, your friends' magic was part of you when you fully bonded."

"OK, that's not disturbing at all..." Sirius said, making a face. Then he shook himself. "The important thing is, you _can_ get there, right?"

They both nodded, but Hermione added, "We can't make any promises about getting back, though."

"I can take care of zat," Fleur assured him.

"And you two are wearing your Christmas gifts?" Sirius asked.

"All the time." Jasmine confirmed. "I wish Fleur and Gabrielle had their basilisk hide tunics as well, but at least they have other armor."

"OK, then," Sirius said as they started moving for the door. "I must be crazy for letting you do this, but I honestly can't think of a better plan."

* * *

When Bill Weasley arrived at a secluded apparition point in the trees near his home, he knew at once that Luna's message had been genuine because he could smell the smoke despite the distance. Once he had oriented himself, he could see the flames through the trees, and it was all he could do to stay upright. Stumbling through the wooded area, he emerged to find that little of his family's house was left.

He also found a glowing wand pointed right at his face.

His first instinct was that the attackers were still around and he'd walked into a trap, but a split second later he recognized the blonde hair of their nearest neighbor. He slowly raised his hands and said as calmly as possible, "It's me, Bill Weasley. You're Luna, right? I was with Jasmine when your message arrived."

"Oh, hello, William," Luna said softly as she lowered her wand. "It's been so long, I barely recognized you. You look nice in long hair, though."

Bill heaved a sigh of relief, then jumped when he heard a voice behind him. "You're sure you recognize him, sweetie?"

"Yes, Daddy, this is William. Ginny's favorite brother."

"Very good, then," Luna's father said as he came up beside Bill and held out his hand. "Xenophilius Lovegood. I know we've met, but it's been quite a while." Bill shook his hand, then turned his attention back to his family's home. Or what was left of it.

"I'm sorry about your house," Luna said.

Bill nodded bleakly. "How about your place, is it alright?"

"Just some light damage to the outside," Xeno replied.

"Did you see who did this?" Bill asked.

"No, they were gone by the time we arrived," Xeno said. "But Luna took down a couple of those who attacked us."

For the first time since the messenger patronus had arrived at headquarters, Bill smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Let's go see if we can get any information out of them, shall we?"

* * *

Remus had to pound on the gates for two minutes before an elf finally arrived. "Why is you being here so late? Everybody is being asleep!"

"My name is Remus Lupin. I taught Neville Defense during his third year. I've received information that your family may come under attack tonight. You must get Madam Longbottom immediately."

"Attack? I be waking her right away!" the elf cried, then popped away.

Remus spun, crouched, and pulled his wand in a single fluid motion when he heard a crack of apparition behind him. "Smooth move," Hestia said. "Anything suspicious around here?"

"No, nothing," Remus answered. After a moment, the frantic elf returned and led them into Longbottom manor.

* * *

Mad-Eye Moody apparated into an alley near the Davis home and immediately saw from the flashing lights that muggle authorities were already involved. Grumbling, he put on a bowler hat that he pulled down over his magical eye and stepped out into the street. The location of the Davis house was easy enough to find: it was the one engulfed in flames.

A few careful questions to the muggles revealed that no bodies had been found anywhere near the house, which might have been good or bad. A few detection spells led him across the street to where he found the residue of heavy spellfire, and it wasn't long before he located quite a bit of blood — but probably from just one person.

 _Better check St. Mungo's, then_ , he concluded before going off to find a secluded place to apparate away from.

* * *

Tonks also apparated into an alley, and she just as quickly found that the house she was searching for was being tended to by muggle authorities. Unlike Mad-Eye, however, she found two victims also being tended to. A flash of her Ministry badge bought her a few minutes, and she learned that they were Nigel and Charlotte Abbott.

By the time she was done getting their story, Emmeline Vance had arrived. As a Healer, she was able to diagnose their condition and convince the paramedics to let her take the victims away — though she first had to assure the Abbotts that help had already been sent to the Bones residence. Nigel wouldn't stop talking about how it was his daughter that they were really after and that she and her friend were in the greatest danger.

It was only a few minutes later that the four of them were in front of the St. Mungo's admittance desk, with Mad-Eye stomping in close behind.

* * *

 _Merlin, this is a bad idea_ , Sirius thought. _Why did Mad-Eye have to send me_ _ **here**_ _of all places?_

He looked around again, checking for threats, then pounded on the door for the third time. "Si?" came a sleepy woman's voice as the door opened. "Signor Black?"

Sirius tried desperately to focus on her eyes rather than the bathrobe which seemed to be the sole item of clothing she was wearing. A very short, very thin, very low-cut silk bathrobe.

"What are you doing here so late?" she went on, trying to hide a yawn.

"I apologize for disturbing you, Ms. Zabini" he said, "but we received intelligence that suggests you and your son might be targeted for attack tonight."

"Truly?" she asked, her eyes going wide as adrenaline finally woke her up. A crack of apparition caused Sirius to spin and draw his wand, but he relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Anything?" Shacklebolt asked.

Sirius shook his head. "Nothing so far."

"I'm Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, ma'am," the tall man introduced himself while showing his badge.

"So this is real? This is not some prank?" she asked.

"It seems your reputation precedes you, Black," Shacklebolt observed, clapping Sirius on the shoulder. "I'll take a walk around the neighborhood. You stay here and watch the house."

Once Shacklebolt was gone, Alessandra opened the door the rest of the way and invited Sirius inside.

"I really should stay out here," he tried to protest. _Where I'll be safer_ , he added silently.

"But you're too much of a target out there," she protested. "Besides, I'd feel better if you were in here, with us. What if someone tries to enter the house from another direction?"

Sirius sighed and went inside, completely unable to resist a woman showing him such pleading eyes. Or such long legs.

When Shacklebolt returned, he reported that the area was clear. He was about to accept an offer of tea when a silvery-white phoenix entered the living room and spoke with Dumbledore's voice:

 _"Bones residence under heavy attack. Lestranges involved. Need reinforcements."_

"One of us should stay here, just in case," Shacklebolt said.

"You're the auror," Sirius replied. "Go save your boss." Shacklebolt nodded and was out the door in a flash. Sirius looked back at Alessandra Zabini, who gave him a wide smile as she patted the couch next to her.

 _Oh, Merlin, I am so dead_... he thought as his feet automatically carried him over to the nearest beautiful woman.

* * *

The Greengrass house shuddered with another assault on its wards as Karl and Annika moved around the ground floor, casting every kind of defensive and strengthening charm they could think of on the walls, ceilings, doors, and windows. Daphne, Tracey, and Astoria stood in a loose group in the middle of the sitting room, the best-protected room in the house. "I wish I'd spent more time practicing defense," Astoria fretted.

Daphne reached out and squeezed her sister's shoulder. "You'll do fine, squirt. Remember your lessons on dodging and accuracy. Make every spell count, and don't let yourself get hit."

"Do you think they got your message?" Tracey asked.

"I'm sure of it," Daphne replied. "We're lucky that Luna was able to get a message out to us, otherwise we wouldn't have been nearly as prepared." While not a Mistress of Transfiguration, Annika Greengrass was still skilled, and immediately after the rabbit patronus had delivered its warning, she stepped outside and proceeded to transfigure dozens of rocks into wolves, lions, and other animals. It had left her a little winded, but it was worth it considering the cries of pain from the attackers when they arrived in the midst of an unexpected menagerie of large, hungry predators.

Just then a doe patronus arrived in front of her and spoke in Hermione's voice:

 _"Hold tight. We are coming."_

"We've got reinforcements incoming!" Daphne shouted to her parents.

"Do you know who it is?" her father asked as he entered the sitting room.

Daphne shook her head. "It was Hermione's patronus, so definitely her. Probably Jasmine, too. I don't know about who else."

"Gabrielle, I'll bet," Tracey added. "Haven't you ever noticed how she never takes her eyes off of Jasmine? Where Jasmine goes, Gabrielle follows."

"Who is this Gabrielle?" her mother asked, having just joined them.

"She's the sister of our new Defense teacher, who was last year's Triwizard Champion from Beauxbatons," Daphne replied. "Gabrielle Delacour and Fleur Delacour."

"Delacour?" her father asked, startled. "Veela?"

"Yes, they are," Daphne said. "Do you know them?"

"Of them, yes," her father said, shaking his head. "It was stupid of me not to have made that connection before."

The house shuddered again, and her mother said, "Whoever is coming, I hope they get here soon. I don't know how much longer those wards will—"

A loud crashing sound signalled the demise of the wards, and the walls shook as spellfire impacted the outside of the house.

"We should set up our defense in the living room — that will allow us to harass the attackers, maybe reduce their numbers before they try to enter the house," Karl said as he started heading towards the front of the house. "We'll use overturned furniture for cover. Everyone watch a different window."

As they took up positions, they could see what looked like fighting outside their home — exchanges of spellfire and odd golden flashes.

* * *

With Gabrielle holding on to Jasmine and Fleur holding on to Hermione, the four young witches apparated to the top of a hill near the Greengrass home. Night had fallen, but the light of the moon was enough to let them make out dark figures all around the house, casting spells at its walls. "Ze wards must have fallen already," Fleur said. "See how zey are moving in on ze house. Zere is not much time left."

"The biggest group is in the front," Hermione pointed out. "We need to concentrate on them first."

"Bon," Fleur agreed, and pointed to the far side of the field where the attackers were located. "I will take Hermione and apparate to zat rise over zere. We will attack in pairs from behind and from two different directions." Everyone agreed, and the two witches apparated away.

"Ready, Gabrielle?" Jasmine asked. The young veela nodded and pulled out her short bronze sword.

* * *

Antonin Dolohov swore as another barrage of curses failed to breach the walls of the Greengrass home. Not even the front door showed any serious damage. The night had gone from one disaster to another, and it still wasn't done. The Patils had put up a much stiffer resistance than he'd been led to expect, and he'd had to content himself with collapsing their house on the survivors once he'd cursed his target.

Then Mulciber showed up to the rendezvous with only half of his already-small group, complaining about having been ambushed from behind. Upon arriving at this target, they were set upon by dozens of transfigured predators. Two of their attack force had been killed and another half dozen injured before they could get organized and kill off the beasts.

 _We still have four at the rear with Mulciber and a dozen here in the front with me_ , he thought. _That's more than enough to take care of two adults and two underaged witches... if we can just get inside! I hope Bellatrix is doing better than we are, otherwise the Dark Lord will punish us for days. Unless... maybe we can blame it all on these dregs that were brought in from Germany and Italy?_

Just then there was a horrible, gut-wrenching scream from behind him, and he turned to ask what was going on. "Something has killed Wilhelm!" cried one of the Germans — Gunther, he thought.

"Is it another one of those bloody lions?" he asked. "I thought we got rid of all of them!" After staring into the bright lights around the house, he was having trouble seeing in the dim moonlight behind him. The one he thought was Gunther appeared in front of him, looking terrified.

"No, it vas no animal," he said. "It looked—"

Whatever he was going to say was cut off abruptly when the tip of a bronze sword burst out from the German's chest, eliciting a gurgle of agony. Then the sword disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. As the man's body fell dead to the ground, Dolohov saw the blade spinning back into the dark as if it had been summoned. Where it stopped, he thought he caught a glint of gold.

"We've got enemies behind us," he called out. "Turn and fight!" It was the smart thing to do; unfortunately, half of his remaining wands were already down, and the rest weren't organized well enough to mount an effective defense in either direction, much less two at once. He and they were casting curses almost randomly into the night in places where they thought their enemy was... except that it was, at best, where their enemy had been moments before, not where they were now.

As spells kept flying back and forth across the field in front of the Greengrass home, Dolohov gradually came to realize that there was no way he'd be able to come out on top. He was faced with a difficult decision: stay and fight to the bitter end, or apparate away and risk facing his master's wrath. When a witch with bushy hair appeared in the night, he fast-cast a silent curse and purple flame burst out of his wand, striking the witch across the chest.

He smiled as he watched her tumble bonelessly to the ground, knowing that she was as dead as that little Patil bint he'd killed earlier. Before he could seek out another target, though, he saw her slowly get back up to her feet and fix him with a hard stare. _**No one**_ _ever got up from that curse_ , he thought disbelievingly. _Not right away, and usually not ever._

Then he realized that the little witch's eyes were glowing blue, and suddenly he no longer had trouble deciding what to do. With a silent incantation, he cast a shield behind him and was running to the back of the house to get Mulciber before he even saw her wand hand move. He was forced to dodge left and right as curses flew past and missed him by mere inches, a level of accuracy he'd not seen in years.

By the time he got to the rear of the house, he found that Mulciber and his men had managed to break through the back walls — but judging by the screams, they hadn't gotten far.

 _Fuck this_ , Dolohov thought as he raised his wand into the air to cancel the wards they'd cast, then apparated away.

* * *

There was a large hole in the side of the Bones house when Dumbledore arrived, and there were bodies strewn all over the street and sidewalk. _This is not good_ , he thought. _Not good at all._ When he found an auror who was still alive and conscious, he learned that the attack had been spearheaded by all three of the Lestranges.

Even when he was at his best he'd have avoided taking on those three simultaneously and alone, so he sent out several patronuses asking for reinforcements, then stepped through the bodies of defenders and attackers alike as he carefully entered the house, wand at the ready.

As he passed over the remains of the threshold, he could feel what he assumed were anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards that had been cast by the attackers. Before long he started hearing the sounds of spellfire and screams of pain. Moving more quickly, he encountered a few attackers who'd been left behind due to their numerous injuries. These wizards he quickly stunned and bound before moving on. He gingerly stepped around debris from broken walls and caved-in ceilings as he tried to make his way to wherever the battle was currently being fought.

It wasn't long before he heard a familiar and unwelcome cackling. _Bellatrix_ , he thought. _I hope those reinforcements arrive in time, because I'm not at my best these days._

Fortunately, Albus Dumbledore not at his best was still far better than the average witch or wizard on their best day ever, so when he entered the room where Bellatrix and her men had cornered the last defenders, he was able to launch an assault that effectively distracted all of the attackers. Off to the side, he noted the prone forms of Rabastan and Rodolphus, and he thanked Merlin for that.

"Dumbledore!" Bellatrix singsonged. "You've come to pway with me!" The witch started dancing around and casting lethal hexes all around him, putting him on the defensive. Around her, black-robed figures increased the pressure as they also began sending curses his way, though he tried hard to hide his fatigue,

"You're looking well... Bellatrix," Dumbledore commented between dodging and batting away their salvos. "My compliments to your Healer. Not many... can throw off the effects of more than a decade in Azkaban so well."

"You should leave, Dumbledore," she said, now sounding sane. "I have business with a couple of little witches here, and my reinforcements will soon be at your back."

"Those 'little witches'.. seem to be doing fine for themselves," Dumbledore observed, noting how his two fifth-year Hufflepuffs had started casting rather violent curses at the backs of Bellatrix's men, surprising them and cutting their numbers steadily. "Well enough, in fact... to put your husband and brother-in-law out of the fight. On top of that... I think my own reinforcements will be here quicker than yours. Surrender, and I will guarantee that you'll be treated fairly."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and looked around, realizing that her numbers were dwindling fast and that she'd be in trouble if caught alone between Dumbledore on one side and the house's defenders on the other. Rather than surrendering, though, she cast _Bombarda_ at Dumbledore's feet, then raised her wand high to cancel the anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards. Only a second later, all of the attackers — alive, injured, or dead — were gone.

Dumbledore sighed and leaned against the wall as he watched Amelia and Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, and the few remaining aurors check each other for injuries and prepare to go to St. Mungo's. He looked up at a wall clock that had somehow survived the assault and saw that in a few short hours it would be Monday, the day the Hogwarts Express was supposed to arrive to start the spring term.

 _I don't see how I'm going to make it all the way through the opening feast_ , he thought wearily as Kingsley Shacklebolt led a group of reinforcements into the room.


	36. Not Gonna Get Us

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. As you may have noticed, this isn't Saturday! "Heart and Soul" will now be published twice a week so you don't have to wait an entire week between updates.

As always, I'd like to thanks Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Leaving Home" by Pixel and Stephanie Forever. Harry is profoundly unhappy when he discovers just how much Dumbledore has meddled in his life. Rather than continue to play along, he decides to leave for America — and is accompanied by his favorite bushy-haired witch.

* * *

 **Chapter 36 - Not Gonna Get Us**

 **Monday, January 17, 1996, Early Morning.**

Padma abruptly sat up straight, certain that she'd seen movement out of the corner of her eye. She stared intently at the shape on the bed. One minute. Two minutes. When no indication of consciousness appeared, she slumped back in the chair she'd been sitting in for the past few hours and resumed her quiet vigil. The newest false alarm had woken her up, for which she was grateful, but being so awake meant that she couldn't avoid thinking about the tragedy which her foolish actions had nearly brought down on her family.

 _It all seemed so innocuous when I started_ , she thought. _First it was just an apology. Then it was just a study group. Then it was just... strongly discouraged ancient rituals of power. OK, so maybe that wasn't such an innocuous step, but it wasn't dangerous in and of itself. It was fascinating! I should have paid more attention to the stories Jasmine and Hermione told about their years at Hogwarts. Every one of them has the same lesson: it always starts with "ooh" and "aah," but then later there's running and screaming._

Padma shook her head to clear her mind of such thoughts and leaned forward a little so she could focus on her sister, hoping Parvati would awaken again. The healers had struggled for hours to save her. No one knew what curse had hit her — all anyone saw was purple flames — so no counter-curse or potion could be administered. They weren't even sure what exactly it was doing to her until they realized that her internal organs were starting to shut down and wither.

Staring at the incredibly still and fragile form of her twin, Padma kept coming back to her regret over past choices and a growing determination to do better in the future. _I should never have gotten involved with Jasmine_ , she concluded, _and as soon as I can, I'm going to distance myself from her group. I'm going to focus on you — on making sure you get better, then on making sure you stay safe._

"I'm sorry, Parvi," she whispered into the darkened room. "This is all my fault, and I'm so, so sorry. I should never have gotten involved in such dangerous—"

"Don't be such a gormless idiot!" a nearby voice said crossly, causing Padma to jump slightly in her seat. When she caught her breath, she saw that Lavender was awake and looking at her as if she were a bug. _I did nearly get her best friend killed. Of course she hates me._

"Sorry, Lavender, I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered. "I forgot you were—"

"Don't try to change the subject," Lavender snapped. "What was that shite about things being your fault and wishing you hadn't gotten involved in something?"

Padma took a deep breath. "You're the one who told me what that wizard said, and you heard as well as I did that there were other attacks. If it weren't for me, my family would have been safe last night, not fighting for their lives. If it weren't for my decision to join Jasmine's group, my sister would be sleeping safe in her bed, not... not... _here_. Not looking like she's... like she's barely alive."

Padma's throat tightened, and she couldn't get out any more words. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked back at her sister, wishing she were lying there instead. She felt Lavender's arm come around her shoulder and pull her close.

"Are all Ravenclaws as mental as you, or are you a special case?" Lavender asked, catching Padma up short.

Sniffing and wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she turned back to the blonde Gryffindor and frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Like I said: gormless idiot. Your sister's always going on about how smart you are, but I don't see it," Lavender answered with a sigh. "What I'm talking about is you thinking that you're responsible for anything that happened last night. If you're responsible for anything at all, it's keeping us alive. You put a shield over you and your mum. You spent a lot of extra time working with me and Parvati, training us above and beyond everyone except those in Jasmine's and Hermione's inner circle. We're alive _because_ of you, ya daft bint, not in spite of you!"

Padma shook her head again. "But they shouldn't have been there in the first place..."

"Sooner or later, they would have been," Lavender retorted. "You remember what Hermione said: unless you run and hide or join up with them, they'll be coming for you eventually. You choosing to take a stand may have made it sooner, but that's not your fault. Taking a stand against evil isn't _blameworthy_ , y'know. And before you start up about how you shouldn't have joined up with Jasmine, do you have any idea how proud your sister is of you?"

Padma blinked away new tears and looked at Lavender with surprise. "Proud?" she whispered. "Of me?"

Lavender nodded. "A little jealous, too, but we won't go there. She's proud that you were the first in your house to try to patch things up with Jasmine and Hermione — long before she and I ever thought to try, and we mucked that up good when we did. She's proud that you joined a study group made up of students from all four houses. She's proud that you're willing to take a stand for what's right rather than lock yourself away in a library like other Ravenclaws — she's said more than once that you're more Gryffindor than most of our housemates! She's proud of how strong, physically and magically, you've become."

Padma sniffed again and looked back at Parvati, feeling as if maybe she hadn't been seeing her before.

"She looks up to you," Lavender said. "She always did, but even more so recently. So do a lot of us witches. Me, too." Padma turned back and saw that the hard look that Lavender had been giving her had been replaced by a much softer and friendlier smile. "Don't say you regret something that makes us all look up to you — something that makes us all wish we could _be_ you."

"Why... why didn't she ever say anything?" Padma whispered as she looked on her sister's still form.

"She didn't want you to get a swelled head, obviously," Lavender said matter-of-factly. "You Ravenclaws already walk around with your heads in the clouds, thinking you know everything. She figured you didn't need something else to feed your ego."

Padma's head whipped around again, mouth gaping open in shock, but then she saw the wry grin on the other witch's face and they both started laughing. It was the first time either of them had done anything more than cry since the previous night's attack, and it was a release they both needed.

* * *

When Keshi Patil stepped quietly into her daughter's hospital room, she couldn't help but smile when she saw Padma and Lavender leaning against each other in sleep. Ever since starting Hogwarts, her one daughter had become incredibly close friends with the blonde English witch — close as sisters in fact, while her actual sister had become distant and isolated. Now it seemed that their relationships were shifting significantly.

She had some good guesses as to why, too. Keshi and Rajan had known that Padma's dramatic physical changes weren't just due to having a different growth spurt than her sister, but they had chosen not to press the issue. They had found that people practiced the Old Ways using different rituals here than they did back home in India, but it was still drawing on the same deep magic. Padma had been tight-lipped about events over the past few terms, but Parvati had been freer with information — especially while talking to Lavender when she thought no one was listening.

It all came back to that Potter girl, including (probably) the attack last night. _Padma warned us about that English Dark Lord coming back_ , Keshi thought, _but we thought we'd have more time to install stronger defenses around the house. We assumed that we wouldn't be targeted any time soon, if ever. It should have been obvious, though, that if Padma was involved deeply enough to know so much of the truth, then she was likely to become a target._

She spent a few minutes looking at Parvati, trying to hold back renewed tears. Her own healer training back in India meant that she knew exactly how bad her daughter's condition had been and how close they'd come to losing her. Fortunately, it also meant that she knew Parvati was on the mend now — not out of danger, certainly, and she'd be taking a dozen potions a day even after she was released, but she was definitely on the mend. Keshi then walked around the bed and gave the other two witches a light shake. "Time to get up," she said softly.

"Hm? Wha?" Padma mumbled while Lavender stretched.

"You two need to get ready to leave for Hogwarts," Keshi said. "A professor will be here soon to take you there directly so you can shower and rest before your feast tonight."

"But all our stuff was destroyed," Lavender said, suddenly realizing how much she'd lost and how much trouble that was going to cause. "All our clothes, our makeup..."

"Our books!" Padma exclaimed.

"It's all sorted," Keshi said with her first genuine smile since before the attack.

"How?" Padma and Lavender demanded.

"I got a visit from two tired-looking house elves early this morning," she explained. "They said they scoured the rubble of our house for everything that could be salvaged and repaired. They couldn't fix the house, they said, but they were able to get a lot out. They brought your stuff in two rather old-looking trunks. The rest of the household is in several old expanded trunks. They're all in your father's room."

"Papa? How is he?" Padma asked.

"He's still resting, but he'll be fine," Keshi said. "Now let's go get your stuff. The professor is supposed to meet you in the front lobby."

"Where did the elves come from?" Lavender asked.

"I have no idea," Keshi said as they exited Parvati's room. "They called themselves... Doppy and Winny or something like that. They were acting on behalf of their mistresses, but didn't stick around long enough to say who those mistresses were."

Padma frowned, certain that she'd heard those names before, but she couldn't remember where.

* * *

Down in the lobby they found Tracey and Hannah already waiting as well. Padma and Lavender pulled the other two into a tight four-way hug and held it for a long moment. It wasn't something any of them had ever done before — none of them were especially touchy-feely or physically demonstrative — but it somehow felt right. When they finally pulled back slightly to look at each other, they were amazed at how much better they felt — even Lavender, who hadn't participated in the magical rituals with the other three.

"We heard what happened," Tracey said to Hannah. "With all the aurors in the hospital, it was hard not to. I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do..."

The tired-looking witch nodded but didn't say anything.

"How are your parents?" Lavender asked.

Hannah shrugged mutely, then forced herself to add, "I'm not sure. They... they tortured Mum and Dad pretty badly, but the healers say they'll recover from that. Eventually. But... but Mum was pregnant, and the baby didn't make it. I heard the healers say that... that the baby experienced the torture curse as badly as Mum did." Hannah started to cry a little then, and the others pulled their hug tight again.

Eventually Tracey said, "I didn't realize they hit your home too, Lavender."

Lavender shook her head. "I was spending the night with Parvati and Padma so I could catch the Hogwarts Express with them. So they were targeting us? I mean... targeting you? Your group?"

Tracey nodded. "It looks that way, yes. Me, Daphne, Susan, Hannah, Padma, Luna... oh, thank Merlin for Luna! She sent us a warning, and we'd have been so much worse off if she hadn't thought to do that!"

"I completely forgot about sending messages with a patronus until the attack was over and our house was in ruins," Padma said ruefully.

"You lost your house, too?" Tracey asked Padma, who nodded.

"It's all rubble now, but a couple of house elves were able to salvage a lot of our stuff," she said.

"Ours was burned down, according to the aurors," Tracey said. "Hannah's, too."

"What about your stuff?" Lavender asked.

"We were both visiting friends and had our trunks with us," Tracey said. "I was at Daphne's, Hannah was at Susan's. So we've got the basics and what we need for the coming term, but... we still lost a lot."

"Make a list," Lavender said firmly. "We'll get you what you need. I'll make sure of it."

"Thanks," Tracey said, and Hannah gave Lavender a light squeeze in response.

"How are your parents doing?" Padma asked Tracey.

"Mum's fine," she answered. "My dad's legs were pretty messed up when they came in, but the healers say he'll get better. Might have trouble walking for a while, though. What about you?"

"My father will probably be released in a day or two," Padma answered. "But Parvati... Parvati isn't doing well. They don't know what curse she was hit with, and the Healers almost lost her several times last night. My mum has healer training and says that Parvati will get better, but... but she looks so frail and weak in her bed. I just don't know."

"I'm surprised that we all made it through so well," Tracey said. "I mean, there were some injuries. Daphne and I were hit a couple of times, but we were able to walk away afterwards. You all look like you're doing well."

"Susan and I took a few spells, but they didn't hurt us too badly," Hannah said with a frown. "I'm... I'm not sure why. The Lestranges made no effort to hide the fact that they were targeting the two of us specifically."

"I've been thinking about that," Padma said, "and I'm pretty sure that I came out so well because I was wearing my protection amulet. Were you two wearing yours?" Tracey and Hannah looked surprised for a moment, then reached into their blouses and pulled out identical wooden amulets. "Yeah, I forgot about it at first, too," Padma continued. "I'm so used to wearing it that I stopped thinking about it. Sorry, Lavender, but it's not something we can talk about. I just wish... I wish you and Parvati had had one as well. Maybe if you had, then Parvi..."

"Hey now," Tracey said soothingly, pulling her close again. "You can't keep thinking like that."

Everyone was quiet for a few moments, until Lavender broke the silence. "Does anyone know what happened with Jasmine and Hermione? Padma sent them a patronus to warn them, but we haven't heard anything about them."

"Oh, I know!" Tracey replied. "Do I ever have a story to tell you! They were _so_ amazing, you wouldn't believe it! I swear, it was like one of those Girl Who Lived storybooks we read as little girls..."

"I'd like to hear that story as well," came a familiar voice. All four witches jumped slightly and turned to see Professor McGonagall standing there. "I'm here to take you four to Hogwarts. Once there, perhaps we can have breakfast, and you can tell us all what you know, Miss Davis?"

* * *

 **Monday, January 17, 1996, Morning.**

Jasmine groaned as she felt Hermione shake her. "Five more minutes," she mumbled as she tried to roll to her side, but she immediately realized she couldn't because Hermione was straddling her, pinning her in place. She then felt light kisses being placed on her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her jaw... and when the kisses reached her lips, Jasmine was awake enough to return them.

"Still want five more minutes?" Hermione asked with a smile once they broke apart.

"With you?" Jasmine asked with a much saucier smile. "I think I'd want quite a bit more than that."

"Prat! We don't have time for that!" Hermione exclaimed as she got off the bed.

"Well, if we're so pressed for time, let's share the shower," Jasmine suggested, trying hard to sound casual. She had an idea, and after the events of the previous night, she could use some affirmation of love in the world.

Hermione frowned as she weighed the various options, then finally said, "OK, fine, but let's hurry."

* * *

"Save time, she said," Hermione muttered as she rushed around their now-shared bedroom, trying to pack everything. "Save water, she said."

"What's wrong, luv?" Jasmine asked innocently as she brushed her hair.

"You!" Hermione huffed. "I thought we were supposed to save time by showering together!"

"We did."

"But... but... that took, like, ten times as long as us showering separately!" Hermione protested, now groping around under the bed for something that had rolled away from her.

"I didn't say that it would be shorter than us showering separately," Jasmine replied.

"What?" Hermione asked as her head popped up next to the bed.

"I meant that it would save time as compared to having sex first, then showering separately afterwards," Jasmine explained. Hermione looked outraged, but it subsided when Jasmine added, "Besides, I've been looking forward to trying that ever since that steamy phone call we had over the summer, and who knows when we'll have another chance. Certainly not in the Hogwarts showers."

Hermione's mouth shut with an audible clack as she considered that. "Fine, I'll accept that argument," she finally said grudgingly. "And it was... interesting."

"Interesting?" Jasmine asked with raised eyebrows. "If Sirius hadn't put up silencing charms when he let us move into these two bedrooms, we'd have had half the house barging in to see what was wrong with you."

Hermione blushed. "OK, fine, it was more than just _interesting_. But it was also inconveniently timed! We'll miss the train!"

"Train?"

"The Hogwarts Express?" Hermione said incredulously.

"Oh, uh..." Jasmine suddenly looked sheepish. "I must have forgotten to mention that Sirius is going to floo us to Hogsmeade directly. Security precaution."

"You... you..." Hermione sputtered before leaping up on the bed and exacting her revenge via tickling.

* * *

Once Jasmine had surrendered and promised never to do that again (she had her fingers crossed at the time), she decided to bring up an issue that had been plaguing her since the fight last night.

"Hermione? What was Fleur like in the fight?" Jasmine asked.

"Fleur? Quite good. She protected my back and I watched hers," Hermione replied. "She took out a couple of those attackers."

"You didn't find any of her actions to be especially, uh, brutal or anything, did you?" Jasmine asked, feeling uncomfortable.

Hermione sat down and looked carefully at her girlfriend. "I'm guessing you thought Gabrielle was?"

"Yeah. She took out maybe three or four of the attackers with her sword," Jasmine explained. "It was pretty vicious. I'm not objecting to using lethal force, but what she did was rather messy."

"Messier than using laceration or gouging curses to reduce a body to pieces?" Hermione said pointedly.

Jasmine grimaced. "No, I suppose not. It just... I dunno, seems more brutal when it's a physical weapon than a spell. Does that even make sense, or am I being ridiculous?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think it's ridiculous. If nothing else, using a sword is... more personal. More direct, especially if you are holding it rather than throwing it like I know they can do."

"Maybe it's another step up in intent, and that's what bothers me," Jasmine mused.

"I can see that," Hermione responded. "It's not something that I think I could put into words, but I do agree that there is something about using a sword that seems like it would require a more brutal mindset than using most spells, even those that do require an intent to harm." They were quiet for a few moments, then Hermione added, "Are you worried about her? She is... pretty intense. Especially where you're concerned."

"No!" Jasmine said quickly. "Well... maybe. I don't know. This is so far outside my experience that I can't say whether I should be worried or not. I mean, they're veela. They've been trained by veela warriors. Maybe... maybe this is normal for them. Just because it seems a bit extreme for us doesn't mean it's wrong."

"I agree," Hermione said. "If nothing else, I don't believe that we'll ever have to worry about being able to trust them. A bit extreme or not, they'll help us and protect us no matter what."

A knock at their door put an end to their conversation, and Hermione ducked behind the bed while Jasmine opened it. When she saw that it was Sirius, she let him in. "You two packed?" he asked. When they said they nearly were, he continued, "Do either of you have room for something else?"

"How big?" Hermione asked.

"About this big," Sirius said as he opened the door and retrieved a medium-sized portrait that he'd left in the hall. In the frame was Elladora Black, smiling. "I gave her the short version of last night's events when I went to bed, and when I woke up this morning she informed me in no uncertain terms that she needed to go to Hogwarts with you."

"You and especially those other girls have just experienced something horrible," Elladora explained. "You need someone to help you through this, and you've already told me that there's no mind healer at Hogwarts. So I'd like to help, if you'll let me."

Both witches smiled broadly, and Hermione said, "We'd love to have you, I'm sure you'll be invaluable. But what about you, Sirius?"

"Oh, I'm keeping the frame that's in my bedroom," Sirius reassured her. "This is the frame from the warded portrait room. If she absolutely needs to talk to the others, I'll carry her portrait there. Or maybe get a third one made. Regardless, this will also help us keep in contact because she's agreed to pass messages back and forth. This way you won't have to wear out those poor house elves for the sake of a short message."

"That's great!" Jasmine said as she started transferring things from her trunk to Hermione's in order to make room for Elladora.

"Once you're finished here, come on down for breakfast," Sirius said. "Then we'll all floo to Hogsmeade and get you behind Hogwarts' protections."

* * *

 **Monday, January 17, 1996, Afternoon.**

In the end they floo'd to the Three Broomsticks quite a bit later than they had intended to. Packing hadn't taken long, but after breakfast Hermione insisted on taking time to write to her parents to tell them what had happened. Part of their new understanding with each other was that Hermione wouldn't keep things secret from them, and she wanted to fulfill her promise to keep them informed as quickly as possible.

This got Fleur to write to her family as well, and both letters not only ended up being long, but inspired more than a bit of discussion about the previous night's events. Everyone had returned far too late and too tired to have had a chance to talk about it, so they took the opportunity now.

Thus it wasn't until after lunch that the large group — Jasmine, Hermione, Gabrielle, Fleur, the Weasley kids, Remus, Sirius, and Tonks — were standing in the venerable Hogsmeade tavern, dusting off the soot from their cloaks. This meant they were there when Blaise Zabini and his mother floo'd in as well. "Looks like we all had the same idea," Sirius said as he did the gentlemanly thing and offered to spell away the soot from Alessandra's robes.

"Indeed," she said as she accepted his offer. Once her robes were clean, she wasted no time in taking his arm and saying, "You will escort us up to the castle as well, Signor Black? I feel much safer making the trip with you."

Jasmine had to put her hand to her mouth to cover her snicker, and she watched Blaise roll his eyes as Sirius stammered out a yes. From the look in Tonks' and Remus' eyes, she knew that Sirius was going to be in for a real ribbing once they all got back to headquarters — and the trip to the castle hadn't even started yet.

Once they were out in the sun, Alessandra said to Sirius, "I didn't want to take any chances with _mio patatino_ , even though nothing happened last night. Did any of the threats turn out to be real?"

Everyone else looked at each other and grimaced before Sirius answered, "Yes, quite a few. The Weasleys, the Patils, the Boneses, the Abbotts, the Lovegoods, the Davises, and the Greengrasses." Both Alessandra and Blaise gasped at how many attacks there had been in just one night.

"Was anyone hurt?" Blaise asked, clearly worried about his friends.

"Daphne and Tracey are fine," Jasmine assured him. "They were together at Daphne's, in fact, and when a few attackers broke into the back of the house, the two of them and Daphne's parents took them down quite brutally."

"Tracey's father took a blasting curse to the legs," Hermione said, and even the stoic Blaise winced at that. "They apparently apparated right into the middle of the attack on their house, but fortunately they got away quickly. He'll be alright."

"Lavender was at the Patils and was able to help them," Jasmine continued. "Their house was destroyed, and Parvati was injured pretty badly. It will be a bit before they let her out to come back to school."

"The Abbotts got it the worst," Sirius said. "Charlotte and Nigel were tortured extensively and their home was burned down. Fortunately Hannah was staying over with Susan, and the two of them helped fight off an attack led by the Lestranges until Dumbledore arrived."

"Oh, my," was all Alessandra could say as she gripped Sirius' arm a bit tighter.

"Sounds like that training you're giving us was needed even more than we realized," Blaise observed, then added much more quietly, "But it can't be a coincidence that everyone targeted is part of our group."

"We don't think it was a coincidence, either," Jasmine responded just as quietly. "I guess anyone could have passed along information that we have a study group, but why would that warrant such vicious attacks?"

"Am I imagining things," Alessandra asked with a frown, "or were all of the targets of these attacks the families of witches?"

Sirius gave Jasmine a sidelong glance before answering, "Except for the Weasleys, you're correct. Though Ginny Weasley is a close friend of Jasmine."

Blaise frowned too as he thought about that. "Did anything happen to Neville?" he asked.

"No, and I went to the Longbottoms like Sirius went to your place," Remus replied. "Nothing happened there all night."

"What about you two?" Blaise asked.

Sirius snorted. "They were in a safe and secure location, but instead of simply letting others handle the threats, they rushed right out into danger."

 _"Veramente?"_ Alessandra asked.

"We received a patronus from Daphne that their house was surrounded and that they didn't know how long the wards would hold," Jasmine explained. "We couldn't take any chances by waiting for aurors to decide to do something."

"Jasmine, Gabrielle, Fleur, and I all went to help." Hermione said. "Just in time, too, because when we got there we could see that they had breached the wards and were attacking the house directly."

"You four look like you got through unscathed," Blaise commented.

"We took a few hits," Jasmine said cryptically as Hermione absently rubbed her chest where her tunic had protected her from an unknown but nasty looking purple curse. "But nothing too serious."

Alessandra leaned her head forward a little so she could see Jasmine. "This won't put you in legal trouble again, will it, _mia cara?"_

"Not this time," Tonks answered. "Several aurors were involved in checking out the threats, and one of the houses hit was Madam Bones'. Without Umbridge in the Ministry to manipulate events, she was able to quash several charges of violating the Reasonable Restriction on the Use of Underage Magic before any letters could be sent out. I hear that when Mafalda Hopkirk saw Jasmine's and Hermione's names come up again, she put a hold on _everything_ , then sent a message to Madam Bones asking what to do with the flood of violation notices that had been produced."

"I suppose this investigation will go better than the last one," Blaise said hopefully.

"That would be nice, but unfortunately all of the bodies portkeyed away again," Tonks said in frustration. "Dead or just injured, those at Madam Bones' house went first, then the rest shortly thereafter. No one thought to bring them under strong wards soon enough. Madam Bones is in a right state over that, let me tell you."

"I'm glad that you weren't hurt, _piccolina_ ," Alessandra said to Jasmine, though she was looking at Sirius as she stroked his arm. "I'm sure your godfather must worry about you so."

As she continued to coo over how well Sirius was taking to his responsibilities as a godfather despite having endured such awful, awful treatment for so long, Jasmine caught Blaise's attention and fixed him with a hard stare. _We need to talk,_ she mouthed.

Blaise heaved a deep sigh and nodded.

* * *

 **Monday, January 17, 1996, Evening.**

The normally boisterous welcoming feast turned somber when an exhausted-looking Headmaster Dumbledore brought up the attacks the night before, assured everyone that the castle would be safe, and asked for a moment of silence for Parvati Patil, who would be in St. Mungo's for another week or two while she recovered. As Jasmine looked around the Great Hall, she caught the eyes of all of their closest friends in turn, and she recognized the haunted expressions on the faces of the other witches. Worst of all were Ginny and Ron, who were still mourning the death of their father shortly after Christmas.

The looks she saw were like the one she'd seen gazing back from the mirror the morning after every battle she'd been in. It had only been Hermione's close presence which had kept her from sinking into self-recrimination and depression, and that sparked an idea which she started turning over in her mind as the feast wore on. When Lavender mentioned how awful Padma looked and how she shouldn't be alone, Jasmine knew she was onto something and decided to act.

After the students had all been dismissed, she moved quickly to tell Lavender to get Padma and Luna, Neville to get Tracey and Daphne, Hermione to get Susan and Hannah, and to bring them all to meet outside the Great Hall instead of going with their houses to their separate dorms. She herself made a point of grabbing Ginny, and no matter how much Hermione prodded, Jasmine refused to explain her plan.

She only had to glance at Gabrielle to see that she probably knew, and that didn't surprise her.

* * *

"Well, what's going on?" Susan asked when they were all finally together.

"C'mon," Jasmine said as she headed up the nearest stairs.

"Where are we going?" Tracey asked.

"You'll see," Jasmine called back.

"We're going to miss curfew!" Padma complained.

"No you won't," Jasmine assured them. "Well, not technically. I think," she added softly to herself.

"Why are we here?" Hermione asked once they were standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"You'll see," Jasmine said again. "Tapeworm," she whispered to the portrait, which swung open.

"Are we even allowed in here now?" Daphne asked softly as Jasmine led the group into the Gryffindor common room. "I mean, last time it was a party, and we had a professor with us."

"Don't know," Jasmine replied, "and right now, I don't care." The Gryffindors who were in the common room all watched the group with a great deal of curiosity, but none moved to object. The only person who seemed to be at all put out was Cormac McLaggen, who scowled at them the entire time.

Once inside the dorm, Jasmine sealed the door and turned to face the rest of the girls, all of whom were looking at her expectantly. "We've just been through some traumatic experiences," Jasmine began, "and one thing that I've learned is that it's a bad idea to try to deal with such experiences alone. You need people around you — people who care about you, people who will support you. I don't think any of us should be alone tonight."

Most of them looked a bit puzzled at that, still unsure what Jasmine had in mind. But then Tracey piped up. "So you want to have a massive slumber party?"

"Yep," Jasmine confirmed as the rest exchanged surprised looks.

"Could be fun," Tracey said with a shrug, then added, "Nobody better tell Snape, though..."

Jasmine smiled reassuringly. "No worries. This isn't about fun, however — it's about helping each other get through this. Speaking of which," she said as she opened her trunk and pulled out a portrait, "I'd like to introduce you to a mind healer who has already helped Hermione and me with dealing with trauma. Everyone, this is Elladora Black."

They all greeted the smiling portrait, which Jasmine stuck to a portion of a wall that was farthest away from the beds. "Tonight, or whenever you want, Elladora will be here and available for you to talk to. It helps — trust me."

"Anyway, the thing that gave me this idea," she continued, "is... well, it's a secret." She looked at Gabrielle, who smiled and nodded. "It involves the veela, so it's not my secret, but I think it will help us. So just keep this to yourselves, OK?" Everyone nodded and now looked curious. "There are lots of things outsiders don't know about the veela, but the thing that's relevant to us right now is the fact that they tend to live in large communal groups. As many as three or four dozen to a single house. But they don't just live together — they share beds, showers, everything."

She saw the expected expressions of surprise, so she quickly added, "It's not about sex. Some of those living in these groups are lovers, but many are simply family and friends. Mothers and daughters. Sisters. Cousins. They do this because they derive strength and confidence from the knowledge that they are loved by such a large extended family. It constantly reminds them of how others care about and support them. It's about love, and how that love makes them part of a larger whole that is much greater than the sum of its parts."

Jasmine looked around at the now-thoughtful expressions, noting how happy and proud Hermione looked. "I thought... well, I thought that maybe that's something we could all use. I mean, we aren't veela, obviously, but maybe we could learn a little something from them, at least for one night."

"How...?" Daphne tried to ask, clearly unsure what exactly she wanted to know.

"It'll be tight, but I think that if we push the beds together, we can make it work," Hermione chimed in to say.

"But we don't have our pajamas," Susan complained. "Or any of our stuff."

"Oh, right, that's easy enough to fix," Jasmine responded. "Dobby, Winky!" she called out, and two house elves popped in in front of her. "All of these witches are going to stay here tonight," she said, then she hesitated and looked up at the others, all of whom nodded. "Right, they're going to stay here, but they don't have the stuff they need — pajamas and personal items. Can you two take care of that, please?"

"Yes, Missy Jazzy!" they replied in unison before popping out again.

Several witches snickered at the name they used, but Padma asked, "Dobby? Winky? Did you send those elves to our house?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Jasmine answered. "When we heard that it hadn't burned like... well, like the others, Hermione and I asked them to salvage what they could."

"Thank you!" Padma cried as she rushed over and pulled first Jasmine and then Hermione into a hug, closely followed by Lavender.

Moments later, trunks started appearing in the dorm; in a corner, a new bed appeared as well, and the witches all got to work moving the furniture around and creating one huge bed for them all. The bathroom had been constructed for use by several witches, but not nearly so many, and thus it took quite a while for them all to get ready for bed. When they were, though, they put Ginny, Hannah, and Padma in the middle, enveloping the three hurting witches with all the love, comfort, and support they could provide.

Each and every one, especially the three in the middle, would swear the next morning that it was the best night's sleep they'd ever had. Only the knowledge that they couldn't do it all the time dimmed their moods at all.

* * *

 **Monday, January 17, 1996, Very Late Night.**

Minerva McGonagall carefully opened the door and peeked in, then nearly gasped audibly in surprise to see what appeared to be a single, massive bed in the middle of the dorm filled with witches, all hugging each other close in their sleep. _I had expected to find them all here, just... not quite like that_ , she thought. _I suppose it makes a certain amount of sense, but I think I'll leave out some of these details when I report back to Albus._

The Gryffindor guardian portrait had notified the headmaster that several non-Gryffindors had entered the tower but none had left. After some consideration, and mindful of events the night before, Dumbledore chose to let McGonagall investigate and decide how to handle it — something that she knew was bound to infuriate Snape once he found out, since two of his Slytherins were involved.

Looking around the room, she saw a new and unfamiliar portrait hanging on the far wall. The woman put a finger up to her pursed lips to call for quiet and winked at her. McGonagall raised one eyebrow and frowned. _Portraits aren't supposed to be in dorms like this — it's a privacy violation. So where did it come from? I'll have to ask the girls tomorrow._


	37. Wind of Change

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

This story is now being published twice a week, so if you missed the Tuesday update for any reason, you'll want to step back to read that chapter.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Emperor" by Marquis Black. This is a seriously AU story which only takes the barest minimum from the earliest portions of Rowling's original story and turns it into a massive political and military epic spanning the breadth of Europe.

* * *

 **Chapter 37 - Wind of Change**

 **Tuesday, January 18, 1996, Morning.**

It had become something of a habit that students had fallen into every morning: check the walls for a new Educational Decree before entering the Great Hall for breakfast. It surprised no one that morning to find Number Twenty-Six: "Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach."

"What do you suppose the purpose of that is?" asked Daphne as all the witches sat down at the Gryffindor table. After the previous night they all felt incredibly refreshed and energized — even Ginny, Hannah, and Padma — and none of them wanted to separate, so they sat at the same table for breakfast without giving it another thought.

"Limit the flow of information to what the Ministry approves of?" Susan suggested. "Limit the amount of contact teachers and students can have with each other?"

"You don't suppose it's targeting us, do you?" Hannah asked in a whisper. "You know... what we do?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip for a moment, then answered, "I doubt it. If they had even an inkling of what's going on, they'd do a lot more than issue a vague decree."

"She's right," Susan said, "so let's keep quiet about that here in public." Hannah blushed and focused on her food.

"None of the teachers look happy," Jasmine noted, "but Hagrid looks the most depressed. No more visits to his hut for tea and a chat, I guess."

"No more visits to Professor McGonagall," Hermione pointed out. "At least, not without risk."

Jasmine's face darkened. Though the others didn't know much about the girls' regular get-togethers with their Transfiguration professor, they knew that all three witches valued those afternoons a lot, and they looked on in sympathy.

"There's nothing in today's _Daily Prophet_ about the attacks," Jasmine said, scowling.

"Maybe it's too soon?" Hannah suggested. "Maybe they want to wait until they know for sure what happened?"

Susan scoffed. "Not having all the facts has certainly never stopped them before. Usually they just speculate, then change their story when more information comes out. They should at least have _something_ in here."

"Not if they are deliberately holding the reports back," Hermione whispered.

Before anyone could comment on that, Professor Snape came over from the staff table and started accosting the two Slytherin witches sitting there. "Greengrass! Davis!" he snapped. "What do you think you're doing here? You should be at the Slytherin table with your housemates. And where were you last night? If you were with Potter you'll regret it, do you hear me? You'll be serving detention with me for so long that—"

"Professor Snape?" Gabrielle interrupted.

"What?" he barked.

"Did ze Headmaster inform you of what Jasmine and Hermione did on Sunday?" she asked. "What zey did to ze Death Eaters who attacked Daphne's home?"

"Of course he did," Snape said peevishly.

"And you also know what zey did to ze Death Eaters who attacked Hermione's home over ze summer?"

Snape stilled and asked in a more controlled voice, "What of it?"

"They seem to be getting better at it, don't you zink?" she responded. "Killing Death Eaters, I mean."

Snape glared at her, but she held his gaze, never blinking and never looking away. Finally he spun on his heel and stalked out of the Great Hall without saying another word.

"Did a fourth-year veela witch just scare the Dungeon Bat out of the Great Hall?" Ron asked in undisguised awe.

"To be fair, she is a pretty intimidating fourth-year veela witch," Neville pointed out as he continued his breakfast. Gabrielle smiled sweetly and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"True," Ron agreed, apparently remembering some of the special training sessions she'd done with him in October to get him up to speed with his friends. He had initially balked at the idea of a younger witch training him, but she had disabused him of his arrogant assumptions. Fast.

"Gabrielle," Jasmine said quietly, "I'm not sure it was such a good idea to threaten him like that,"

Gabrielle shrugged. "Technically I didn't threaten. I simply reminded him of some of your recent activities. If he chooses to feel threatened by those activities, well..."

On the other side of the Great Hall, Theodore Nott looked angrier and more frustrated than ever.

* * *

 **Tuesday, January 18, 1996, Late Morning.**

"I checked on you last night," McGonagall said after keeping Jasmine and Hermione back once Transfiguration ended. "Don't worry — you're not in trouble. The Headmaster left it up to me to decide what to do about all the non-Gryffindors who entered the tower and never left. I decided to let the matter go, considering what had happened to all of you the night before. But that's providing that it doesn't become a regular occurrence. Even inter-house unity can be taken a bit too far."

Both younger witches nodded in agreement, and Hermione said, "Professor Snape was upset at breakfast this morning. He yelled at Daphne and Tracey, then threatened to put them in detention for a long time—"

"Though not to take any points, I noticed," Jasmine interjected.

"I'll have a chat with him," McGonagall promised. "What concerns me more is the portrait I saw hanging in your dorm. Having magical portraits in private areas like that is a serious violation of your privacy. How did it get there? I didn't recognize it."

"Oh, we brought that from... uh, headquarters," Jasmine replied. "She's a Mind Healer who's been helping us. She wanted to come to Hogwarts to help the others. It was a lot worse than what they experienced during that attack on Hogsmeade, and I thought it would be a good idea.

Professor McGonagall considered that. "Very well," she said finally, "I can see the wisdom of providing some counseling, and it probably is better if she remains something of a secret. Just be sure that everyone living in the dorm gives their explicit, verbal consent."

Once they both agreed to this as well, she asked, "Now, how are the two of you doing? I've already heard from Miss Brown, Miss Davis, Miss Patil, and Miss Abbott about what happened to them; and I must say, Miss Davis gave a positively thrilling account about what she saw you two doing at the Greengrass residence."

Hermione groaned; Jasmine put her head in her hand.

"Oh, yes," McGonagall continued avidly, "To hear her tell it, the two of you plus the two Misses Delacour swooped in on the backs of fire-breathing dragons, all clad in golden armor, and by yourselves eliminated an entire army of Death Eaters and dark creatures."

The girls gaped at their professor in abject horror. "Please," Jasmine whispered, "tell me she didn't..."

McGonagall held her earnest expression for another beat, then apparently couldn't take it anymore. She started chuckling, and the girls realized that they had been pranked by their normally stern professor.

"No," she eventually got out, "Miss Davis didn't say anything quite like that. She was, however, quite enthusiastic and made it sound much more exciting than I'm sure it was in reality. I expect it was pretty bad, in fact, and wanted to offer you a chance to talk about it."

"Honestly, we're fine," Hermione assured her. "When it came to the actual fight, we attacked from behind, and they were pretty disorganized. Hannah and Padma have it the worst, given what happened to their families, and of course Tracey's father will be in St. Mungo's for a bit, in addition to losing their home."

McGonagall nodded. "I already intended to keep an eye on them. You'd best be off so you don't miss lunch."

Just before they left the classroom, Hermione turned and gave Jasmine an inquiring look; she, in turn, nodded, and they both returned to stand beside their professor's desk.

"Is something wrong?" McGonagall asked.

"No, but we do have something to tell you," Hermione said. She glanced around nervously for a moment, then stepped close to her professor. "I think you should go talk to the portrait in our dorm. Her name is Elladora Black."

"Why?" McGonagall said with a frown.

"I talked to her this morning and got her permission to tell you, since you're the one who gave it to me."

"Gave it to you?"

"The book," Jasmine explained. "She wrote it."

"Wrote the... oh!" McGonagall froze in shock at the sudden realization of what Hermione meant. "She... really? She did?"

Hermione nodded. "I... well, I told her that you lost someone. Nothing more — honest! Just... just that you lost someone. And that the memory was still difficult for you. She's willing to talk to you about it. She encourages it, actually."

McGonagall went still, not sure how to react.

"I know it's difficult," Hermione went on, stepping a bit closer. "I realize that you must not have ever been able to talk to anyone about her. Not until you told us. You've had to bear an awful lot alone. I'd... well, I'd offer to let you talk to me, but I'm sure you wouldn't feel comfortable doing that." McGonagall gave her a thin smile. "But Elladora is much more appropriate anyway. She'll keep your secrets and... and she'll understand. It would be hard to find anyone who understands nearly as well as her."

McGonagall remained silent for a long while, but eventually she said quietly, "I will... think on that. It's not something I ever imagined I'd do. Or would be able to do."

Jasmine and Hermione both nodded and began heading for the door.

"Miss Granger? Miss Potter?" McGonagall suddenly called out. Her students turned back to face her.

Minerva's mouth twitched as if warring with itself, but there was no mistaking the depth of feeling behind her eyes as she looked at them. "Thank you," she said at last.

The girls smiled at her before continuing out the door, closing it softly behind them.

* * *

 **Tuesday, January 18, 1996, Evening.**

Instead of studying in the library as they normally would have, the group met in the Transfiguration classroom, where McGonagall and Flitwick were both waiting for them. Like the last time they had been in a fight, Flitwick wanted to go over their actions to help them not only learn from what they did, but also come to grips with what had been done to them. Unlike last time, they had one of the castle's ghosts wandering through the hallway outside to keep watch for Umbridge.

The review took quite a lot longer than it had after Hogsmeade, but in the end it was clear to everyone that they all felt a lot better — both about the decisions they had made and what they might do differently the next time.

Before the group broke up to return to their own dorms, Jasmine pulled Blaise aside and fixed him with a stern look. "I assume you know what I want to talk to you about?" she asked. Blaise nodded silently. "Good. I need a completely honest answer here. I'm not out to get you or your mother over anything she might have done in the past, and anything you admit to here will be kept in confidence. But I have to know: is my godfather safe with your mother? I mean, if they date or anything? I remember what you told us last term, but... I guess I want to hear it from you explicitly."

"I suppose I can understand that," Blaise said. "Keeping in mind that I'm not privy to every little thing my mother has ever done, I can promise you that to the best of my knowledge, she has never poisoned, cursed, or otherwise set out to murder any of her husbands, nor do I believe that she would do that to a husband — or any other sort of romantic partner, for that matter."

Jasmine felt relieved at hearing that... until she saw the loophole. "You say, 'set out to murder,' but that doesn't quite cover everything, does it?" she said, her eyes boring into him.

Blaise looked a little sheepish. "I think I did mention that she married much older men?" Jasmine nodded. "Well, I used to think that she simply preferred older men. Some do. But at some point it occurred to me that she might have had ulterior motives for those choices."

"Like maybe she was counting on the fact that, sooner or later, they might not be able to... well, survive the night?"

Blaise nodded. "I can't prove it, and I'm quite sure she at least liked her husbands, even if she wasn't head-over-heels in love with them; but it is suspicious."

Jasmine frowned in thought, then said, "But Sirius isn't old, and she was definitely flirting with him."

"That's reinforced my earlier suspicions, because it means she doesn't simply have a preference for older men."

"On the other hand," Jasmine continued, "she might be hoping that Sirius is weakened from his time in Azkaban."

Blaise sighed. "I guess that's not completely out of the question, but..." He looked around uncomfortably. "This is embarrassing. Do I _have_ to say it?"

"If it relates to my godfather's safety around your mother, yes!" Jasmine said emphatically. "He's interested, but only if I can reassure him that he's safe."

Blaise sighed once more, this time heavily. "The things I do for her..." he muttered, then said more clearly, "Your concern would be reasonable if it weren't for the fact that... that she's clearly interested in him physically." When Jasmine looked at him in confusion, he continued, "Do I have to spell it out for you? She kept squeezing his arm muscles. When others aren't looking, she gazes at him like a starving lioness might look at a steak. Dammit, on Monday morning I heard her talking to herself about what a nice _chiappe_ he has!"

"Chiappe?"

"Derriere. Rear end. Buns!"

"Oh!" Jasmine said, growing a bit red. "Really?"

"Yes! Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is for me to listen to my mother talk wistfully about how firm and tight some bloke's butt looks? Well, it's not nearly as embarrassing as it is to try to explain it to that bloke's all-but-daughter!"

"Sorry," Jasmine said, now looking embarrassed herself. "I guess she wouldn't be doing that if she was hoping that she'd wear him out."

"I should think not," Blaise said a bit indignantly.

"In fact," Jasmine continued, now growing thoughtful, "such comments are much more likely if she was hoping that she'd finally found someone who'd manage to keep up with—"

"Please, don't say it!" Blaise implored her. "I don't need you filling my head with what my mother might be fantasizing about!"

"Sorry," Jasmine said again. "But I have to warn you: if they do hook up, he's not likely to keep quiet about what they, er, get up to."

"He's not?" Blaise asked, blanching.

"Even before he went to Azkaban, I don't think he was the silent type," Jasmine answered. "But now? I expect he'll want to brag to anyone who will listen. And most of those who'd rather not."

"Sweet Merlin," Blaise whispered as he put his head in his hand.

"In fact," Jasmine continued, "I wouldn't be surprised if he made an announcement by taking out an ad in the _Daily Prophet_."

* * *

 **Tuesday, January 18, 1996, Night.**

Albus Dumbledore read the latest issue of the _Quibbler_ with great interest. The fact that it had appeared only when the students returned to the castle after their Christmas holiday reinforced his belief that Miss Potter and Miss Granger, possibly with the help of others, were responsible for smuggling it into the school. He knew, though, that he probably wasn't the only one who would notice that and begin to focus on them as likely suspects.

 _I wish I had time to work on the runes crossword puzzle_ , he lamented. _The one in the previous issue was quite challenging._ Instead, he focused on the articles exploring what might be possible if witches and/or wizards working together could combine their magic when casting spells. _This is much, much closer to what happens in magical rituals_ , he thought, _though still not explicit enough to draw condemnation from the Ministry — assuming that these articles are even noticed. More than likely, our Ministry officials will be too preoccupied with the political articles about corruption and censorship._

He reluctantly set the _Quibbler_ aside, knowing there wasn't anything new in there that would help him figure out who was behind the rituals that he was now convinced were destroying Voldemort's horcruxes. Instead, he looked over the DMLE reports about the attacks that occurred on Sunday night — reports which Shacklebolt had had great difficulty in obtaining, for some reason.

Before he could read far, he was startled by a knock at the door. Chiding himself for having missed the warning, he invited the visitor in and was surprised to see that it was his Potions professor.

"Ah, Severus," he said, "I expected Tom to keep you a bit longer."

"By the time I had arrived, he'd punished most of those he blamed for the failures on Sunday night," Snape replied as he held out a stack of books. "This is the material on rituals that I thought I could smuggle out most easily. There is more, but I can't bring too much at once or it might be missed."

"Thank you, Severus, you have no idea how much I appreciate you doing this. Please, just set it on my desk there. I should be able to go through it all for you to return it by the weekend."

Snape nodded as he set the books on the headmaster's desk. "I assume you're still not going to tell me what these books are for?" he asked. "Even the Dark Lord has generally shied away from magical rituals, only resorting to those which he felt were absolutely necessary; and he never, ever delved into the old magics that invoked the ancient deities."

"I can't say anything more than what I told you before — I'm simply pursuing an interesting line of inquiry which might help us against Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "If you're worried, though, I can assure you that I don't intend to hold any rituals like this myself." Snape raised one eyebrow in curiosity but didn't push any further.

"And what of the Lestranges?" Dumbledore continued. "How did Voldemort treat them?"

"He was going to punish them the most harshly," Snape said, "especially since it was Bellatrix's plan from start to finish. However, he realized that despite how much went wrong, and despite the fact that the goals he'd set for the raids hadn't been achieved, she had done better and achieved more than anyone else."

"Fighting into the heart of Madam Bones' home is no small feat," Dumbledore agreed.

"Indeed. The Dark Lord recognized that had you not shown up, she probably would have accomplished her goal of killing the Bones girl, and he could hardly fault her for not being able to defeat you one-on-one while still having several enemies at her back. So she was spared being punished. Much."

"Have you been able to learn yet why he targeted those witches in particular?" Dumbledore asked. "What his interest in them is?"

"Aside from being friends with Potter, there is the fact that most if not all were involved with putting down his attack on Hogsmeade. He seems to have taken that quite badly."

"The fact that they were so successful in fighting off fully-grown wizards once again will likely not diminish his interest. If anything, it will only increase it," Dumbledore said worriedly. "It still disturbs me greatly that you knew nothing of this in advance. It is vitally important that you not tell him anything about any of them, and especially their skills, without checking with me first. And you must certainly not let anything slip about what Miss Potter and Miss Granger managed to do to the werewolves — we must keep him guessing for as long as possible about what Miss Potter is capable of."

Snape nodded. "He won't be able to do much of anything until he rebuilds his forces, and with this latest defeat that has become his primary goal. He's using large amounts of Malfoy gold to recruit wizards and werewolves on the continent, mostly from eastern and southern Europe. At the rate the Dark Lord is going, there soon won't be a Malfoy fortune left."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, having expected something like that for a while. Voldemort wouldn't be able to recruit many in Britain without revealing himself, and he seemed to be delaying that for as long as possible. "Perhaps we will have to send Remus back to the continent to infiltrate the werewolf packs there." He didn't see the glint that appeared briefly in Snape's eye.

"I don't suppose this will finally cause the Minister to admit that the Dark Lord has returned?" Snape asked.

"I'm afraid not. At this point I fear that nothing short of Voldemort showing up in Cornelius' bedroom to curse him personally will cause the man to change his opinion. No, he will continue to deny the truth and has even managed to convince the _Daily Prophet_ to not run any substantive stories about the attacks."

"The Ministry's corruption and shortsightedness are greater weapons for the Dark Lord than a dozen of his best servants," Snape observed, and Dumbledore was forced to agree.

"Do you have any information on his other long-term goals?" Dumbledore asked. "What about that building that he was looking at a few months ago?"

"Nothing, Headmaster."

Their conversation didn't last much longer after that, and soon Snape was back in his dungeon, making plans.

* * *

"How long do you think it will be until the plans are finished?" one of the most recent Death Eater recruits asked his trainer as they walked down the hall to the dining room.

The trainer shrugged. "They'll be done when the Dark Lord is satisfied with them. We're assaulting something that's never been captured, much less captured and held. The defenses are formidable to say the least. We simply have to trust that the Dark Lord knows what he's doing, and that he'll develop a plan that is sure to be a success."

The recruit nodded but still looked anxious.

Up on the wall, one of the portraits narrowed his eyes.

* * *

 **Thursday, January 20, 1996, Afternoon.**

Later that week, Tonks stood in the middle of the Merry Maidens stone circle in Cornwall with her eyes closed, drinking in the raw power that she could feel as it practically crackled in the air all around her. The ley line running beneath the ancient site was supercharged to the point where she was tempted to consider it dangerous, if it hadn't felt so comforting and inviting. _It's weaker than what I felt in Cumbria_ , she concluded, _but still raw and primal._

She took a few deep breaths to center herself, then pulled out the ritual knife which Sirius had lent her. _I'm so lucky to be part of a family that not only has something like this on hand, but will lend it out with no questions asked_ , she thought as she made the prescribed cut across her palm. She formed a fist and held it out over the center of the circle, letting blood drip to the ground. "One for me and my quest," she recited. "Three for the earth that gives us life. Five for the sky that gives us dreams. Seven for Magic that gives us power. Nine for my ancestors that give me guidance."

Once the last drop struck the ground, she quickly bound her hand with a piece of silk and began the long, complex incantation that she'd learned from an ancient book in the family library. It was a tricky piece of magic to pull off, but she had the power and skill, so that hadn't bothered her. The problem was that it required a blood sacrifice and so was classified as blood magic. It didn't matter that the sacrifice was both negligible and her own; it was still condemned by the Ministry. It was only because of her new family connections that she'd be able to get away with it socially, should it become public knowledge, but she'd never save her job.

That's why she had rejected it at first and only returned much later to reluctantly learn it once all of her initial investigations went nowhere. She just hoped that whatever she learned would lead her to clues that she could pass off as having been obtained via acceptable means.

Upon completion of the incantation she dropped to her knees in exhaustion, but she knew she didn't have time to rest. She immediately started looking around for the flashes of images that the spell was supposed to provide. Because of how much time had passed, she assumed that she wouldn't get anything distinct — and the fact that the images were even worse than what she got in Cumbria reinforced her conclusion that whatever had happened, happened here first.

She was also pleased to find that what little she did see was consistent with Cumbria. _Multiple people involved, perhaps as many as several dozen... but twenty to thirty at least_ , she thought as she looked all around a the indistinct, ghostly figures, trying to see as much as she could before the sacrifice burned out. _Can't tell male from female. There's an isolated group outside the circle, but I can't tell how big. Lots of power being channeled through here, and that might be the only reason I'm seeing as much as I am._

She stayed there for a while, kneeling in the snow, thinking about what she knew and how much she still needed to find out. _One way or another, I need to get to one of these sites soon after things happen_ , she decided. _Only then will I be able to get a solid lead._

* * *

 **Saturday, January 22, 1996, Morning.**

"How is everyone feeling?" Jasmine asked members of the study group once they had all gathered in the Room of Requirement. Several gave affirmative responses, but all were looking at her with undisguised curiosity — not merely because it was so rare for her to attend a meeting of the S.P.E.W. leadership, but also because she had been accompanied by the Delacour sisters and Professor McGonagall.

"Hanna, how's your mother doing?" she asked next.

Hanna brightened. "She should be getting out of St. Mungo's soon. She and Dad are going to live with his sister for the time being."

"And your father?" she asked as she turned to Tracey.

"He's walking again," the Slytherin witch responded. "Not fast, but he's walking." She then turned to Luna and added, "Both of them are eager to answer your questions, especially now that it's clear that the _Daily Prophet_ is ignoring what happened."

"My parents are furious," Daphne said. "My father knows someone who works for the _Daily Prophet_ , but they're refusing to return his floo calls. I know he and mother will be happy to be interviewed as well."

"I'm glad to hear that," Luna responded. "I'm disappointed that the Ministry is still downplaying the attacks, but I'm not surprised."

After a few moments of silence, Jasmine cleared her throat and looked around nervously. "I, uh, I guess you're wondering why I'm here. Well, instead of your regular meeting, I, uh, well..."

"Jasmine and I have things we need to tell you," Hermione stepped in to say. "You all probably realize that we've been keeping some things back. Some of it's personal. Some of it hasn't honestly been our secrets to reveal. Well, this morning, we're going to tell you. Partly because we feel it's time, and partly because you should probably hear it before we do any more of the rituals."

"Rituals?" Blaise asked with interest.

"Oh — um, yes, rituals," Hermione replied awkwardly. "We'll get to them in a bit — I promise."

"Just so you know," Jasmine said, "you all are among the first to be told any of this. Few people in the entire world are privy to this information. Needless to say, you'll have to keep it all as quiet as possible. This is part of why we wanted you all to get better with Occlumency — and you have. Lately it's been hard to get through to see what you're thinking, and we've all benefited from getting so much practice with different partners."

"To start with," Hermione continued while taking Jasmine's hand in hers, "the two of us are a couple. A romantic couple. We have been for just over a year, in fact." After taking in the shocked expressions (though noting with relief that no one looked particularly horrified or disgusted), she went on, "But it's much, much more than that."

Together, they said, "Jasmine Dorea Potter and Hermione Jean Granger are a soul-bonded couple."

Of those not already familiar with the story, only Daphne and Padma had any inkling as to what that meant, but once they explained it to the rest, everyone's initial shock was that much greater.

"Is this why you two are so much stronger?" Susan asked.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "Such couples are usually at least a bit stronger than average. Our understanding is that Magic creates soul bonds whenever a couple is destined for some important task. The additional power is Magic's way of ensuring that the couple can do the task."

Before any of them could ask anything else, they were told that there was quite a bit more to explain. The group was first told about the prophecy regarding Voldemort, which surprised no one very much; then about the veela prophecy, which the witches immediately recognized as relating directly to their ongoing efforts with S.P.E.W. as well as the powerful rituals they participated in.

"Just to be clear," Tracey said once their long explanation was done, "you didn't know anything about this prophecy until... when? August? Months after S.P.E.W. was organized?"

"Yes, there was no subterfuge there," Hermione said. "Don't forget that Jasmine wasn't even interested to begin with, and I wasn't a part of the original idea. You all came up with that long before she or I knew anything about any prophecies."

"Though it may not have been a coincidence," Jasmine added.

"What do you mean?" Daphne asked.

"Prophecies aren't understood very well," Hermione explained. "But if you accept the belief that Magic is at least partially sentient, then it makes sense if Magic sends warnings and messages to magical beings, and those messages are treated as prophecies. The only way prophecies and free will can both exist is if we still have choices — if our choices define how or even if a prophecy is fulfilled. Or to put it another way, how or if Magic's warning is heeded or Magic's request is fulfilled."

Everyone nodded, recognizing elements that they'd heard before in other contexts.

"But what if Magic doesn't leave absolutely everything to us?" Jasmine asked. "What if Magic opens up opportunities where we have choices to make — and thus can choose to do something that helps bring a prophecy to fulfillment in one fashion or another?"

"So you're suggesting... what? That Magic encouraged us to form S.P.E.W.?" Tracey asked.

"If anything, I think it's more likely that Magic simply helped the idea form in your minds," Hermione responded. "So once the idea occurred to you, it was still all your choice to run with it, and your choices as to what the group would do. But the opportunity was opened up for you to make that choice."

"Maybe," Jasmine interjected. "Or, it might indeed have been a coincidence. It's an awfully big coincidence if it is, which is why I mentioned that it might not be. It's impossible to prove one way or another."

"Now I'm going to start second-guessing all of my ideas," Padma grumbled. "I'll always worry where they're coming from."

"If you support Jasmine and Hermione's efforts to fulfill ze prophecy," Fleur said, "zen you should always be mindful of ideas or situations zat might help. Instead of being suspicious, you should be open to what is happening around you. You should be open to new opportunities, regardless of where zey come from."

"And that's the big question — or rather questions — you're going to have to answer," Jasmine said. "Will you support us? Can you support us as a couple, despite the fact that wizarding society condemns relationships like ours? The fact that we have a soul bond may make it easier for you in some ways, but it won't for everyone. And you should keep in mind that having such a bond didn't force us into our relationship. People with a potential soul bond don't have to stay together. Ultimately, we're together because we _choose_ it and _want_ it, and you should make your decision based on that."

"You'll also have to decide how much support you'll be able to give our efforts to fulfill the veela prophecy," Hermione continued. "For you, dealing with Voldemort will naturally seem like a bigger concern, and he is the biggest, most immediate threat. However, we personally regard the veela prophecy as a larger extension of what we're already doing in fighting Voldemort and with S.P.E.W."

"Much, much larger," Tracey piped up.

"Yes, there's no denying that," Jasmine agreed. "But so many of the principles and goals will be the same, even if the scope and scale of one is larger. Any effort to achieve one will almost certainly advance the other as well, though maybe not always in recognizable ways."

"This is going to be critical if you choose to continue to participate in the rituals," Hermione said. All of the witches looked a bit surprised, apparently not having imagined that any of them would decline to continue.

Blaise, however, was looking angry. " **What** rituals?" he exclaimed. "I still have no idea what you're talking about — and I get the impression that I'm the only one. Is this what you girls have been so secretive about since the end of last year?"

"Oh, Blaise, you're right — I'm so sorry," Hermione said sincerely. "Yes, we've been doing them as a group since Midsummer. They're veela rituals, though, so they were only for witches." She then gave him a bit more background about which holidays they had celebrated and what the results had been. Neville had found the whole thing fascinating when they told him, but she was surprised to see that Blaise didn't look particularly mollified.

"Anyway," she addressed the group again, trying to get back on track, "remember that will and intent are keys to all magic, including the rituals. Since you knew less before, your intent was necessarily limited. It didn't include support for us as a couple or our efforts to fulfill the prophecy. If you can't support all that now that you know about it, your intent might contaminate the ritual. On the other hand, if you fully support all of that, then your intent will be enhanced, and that may make the ritual even better."

"We know you have a lot to think about," Jasmine concluded, "but you'll need to make a choice one way or another before we travel to the site of the Imbolc ritual." She paused. "So, uh... does anybody have any questions?"

What followed was a spirited discussion, to say the least. Eventually, however, all the answers that could be given had been, and it was up to each individual to decide how they felt about it. After everyone else had left, Jasmine and Hermione saw that Tracey had hung back and was now approaching them purposefully.

"Hey. I wanted to say... I have to admit, I was as surprised as anyone else about your relationship. I mean, I was raised in magical society, and I know what they think of such things." She paused, and her face became more resolute. "But you know what? Magical society can get stuffed. None of their business anyway." Abruptly she threw her arms around the startled witches in a joint hug. "Congratulations, you two! Ooh, I'm so happy for you!"

Both girls blinked in astonishment for a moment, then recovered enough to return the embrace. With a final squeeze, Tracey stepped back and saw that the couple's fingers were now intertwined.

"Thank you," Hermione said almost shyly. "We appreciate that."

"Yeah, definitely," Jasmine added. "We get that it takes some time to get used to, but I think you're the only British magical besides Professor McGonagall to not give us the whole, 'It's weird, but...' thing." She smiled. "It's kinda nice."

* * *

 **Saturday, January 22, 1996, Late Afternoon.**

"Alright, Amelia, I'm here. What's with all the cloak and dagger?"

Bones smiled wryly as Saul Croaker sat down on the other side of her desk. He was one of the Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries — in fact, she suspected that he was one of their leading Unspeakables, but she had no way of proving it. "I thought that you of all people would appreciate it."

"Maybe on some days, but I'm hoping to take my wife out to dinner tonight," Croaker retorted.

"Oh, sorry," Bones said, but Croaker waved it away as unimportant. "Before we get started, what's your position on the claims that You-Know-Who has returned?"

Croaker narrowed his eyes slightly. "What's yours?"

Bones sighed and pushed over a folio of parchment which represented all of the evidence she had on the subject. He read through it all quickly, then said, "Interesting — and more than we've come across ourselves downstairs. Pity none of it is conclusive, though. But is this why you called me in so late on a Saturday?"

"No, actually, it's about Weasley's death," Bones said. "I recently received intelligence that You-Know-Who has become a bit mad about divination and has gotten it into his head that perhaps a prophecy or two would give him an edge."

"Oh, I think he was more than a bit mad already, and being dead or whatever he was for a decade and a half couldn't have helped," Croaker observed as he flipped through the parchment again. "But if he's looking to gain access to the Prophecy Room, that's potentially useful. I can ensure that security there is stepped up."

"I'd like to be keyed into any alerts you create," Bones said.

"Oh? Why?"

"In addition to the many things I have to do to make up for Fudge's stupidity," Bones answered, "I've been trying to put together several rapid strike teams to deal with attacks made by You-Know-Who or Death Eaters. We need to do a lot better than the Ministry did in the 70s. This past summer I had a survey done of attacks his forces made last time, and it showed that auror responses were too slow and weak to make much difference. Now, in the wake of the attacks on those young witches, I'm making those strike teams a higher priority. If I get an alert from you, I might be able to send a couple down your way to assist."

Croaker nodded. "That would be appreciated. We have some skilled witches and wizards, but not many. Tell me a bit about these teams of yours..."

* * *

 **Sunday, January 23, 1996, Morning.**

Hermione and Jasmine were as nervous as they'd ever been as they did their stretches in the Room of Requirement, waiting for their friends to arrive for their weekend training session. The two had no idea how the others would ultimately react to everything they'd disclosed the previous day, but they had resolved to try to act as normally as possible in order to give them time to come to grips with it all.

When the others did arrive, the training session went on as it always did, with none of their friends saying or doing anything that would even hint at the fact that there were any unresolved issues between them. Except for one thing: Blaise Zabini was missing. Everyone noticed it, but no one dared ask, and the other two Slytherins didn't volunteer any information.

It was only at the end that the ice broke. With the Delacour sisters watching in amusement, and Ron and Neville standing off to the side looking a bit disconcerted, all of the witches formed a ring around Jasmine and Hermione. One by one, they expressed their intent to support them — in their personal choices, in their political aspirations, and in their quest to fulfill the prophecies. A few admitted that the idea of two witches in a romantic relationship made them uncomfortable, but on the whole everyone was accepting.

Tracey, for her part, gave them two big thumbs-up and said, "I'm in."

The ring then closed into a large group hug as the witches gave physical expression to their words of support. As they did so, Jasmine and Hermione experienced a feeling that they recognized from the night of the attacks: a sense of connection to all of the witches. It wasn't immediate and constant, like what they had developed with each other or even with Fleur and Gabrielle. But if they concentrated, they could feel the link.

"So, uh... what about Blaise?" Jasmine asked once the group hug had broken up.

Daphne sighed heavily. "He's deeply troubled. He wanted to come, but he felt that he couldn't until he could work some things out."

"You've got nothing to worry about regarding your secrets," Tracey added quickly. "He's promised to keep them."

"Is he that bothered by their relationship?" Neville asked. "He didn't strike me as someone who readily went along with what everyone else believes or says... especially given what he told us about his mother."

"It's more than that," Daphne answered. "It does bother him, and he admitted that he thought it was wrong, but he also said that he found the idea of witches doing those rituals alone to be wrong as well. He didn't explain, but he seemed to lump it all together."

"I don't know if that makes me feel better or not," Hermione said with a frown.

"Well, if it helps, he did say that he felt incredibly conflicted," Tracey said, "because he also admitted that if the rituals we're performing are so effective, then there must be something right about them. And of course, how could a soul bond be wrong?"

"So he's got two sets of beliefs that are in conflict," Daphne added, "and he doesn't know what's right. That's why he's staying away — it's not because of you, but because the conflict is upsetting him so much."

"Do you... do you have any idea how he'll decide?" Jasmine asked.

"I don't know," Tracey admitted with a sigh. "He likes you. He likes all of us, actually, so we have no doubt that he _wants_ to decide that we're right. But whatever it is that's telling him we're wrong can't be trivial, so getting past it won't be easy."

* * *

Sirius Black looked down at the latest letter from Jasmine and felt conflicted. On the one hand, he was getting help from his goddaughter to get a date. How embarrassing was it that he, the amazing and virile Sirius Black, needed help from a teen girl to get a date?

On the other hand... wow, what a date! Not only was she a beautiful and sexy woman who wasn't already suspicious of him because of his reputation, but all of those rumors about her poisoning her many husbands were cases of her being far too much in bed for those husbands to handle.

Sirius felt conflicted about that, as well. He'd always said that if he ever had a choice about how he was going to die, he'd rather die in bed next to an insanely beautiful woman and with a smile on his face. He'd even written it into his will. Of course, now that he was faced with the possibility of having that happen... he wasn't quite so keen on the idea anymore. Truth be told, the thought that there was a woman who could do that was more than a bit intimidating.

The worst part was that he didn't have any better prospects. He didn't even have any worse prospects. Ever since getting out of Azkaban, he hadn't had time to go looking for Miss Right — or even Miss Right Now — and for some reason, no one had approached him.

"Mother," he said to Walburga's portrait, "I know this can't be a priority, but I'd like to see what information we can get about Alessandra Zabini."

"Why?" Walburga asked. "Is she working against Jasmine Dorea?"

"No, not at all," Sirius responded. "Her son is a member of Jasmine's coven, as you call it. No, she seems interested in me, and I find her attractive. There are rumors about her killing previous husbands, but they are apparently a mistake. So I'd like to learn all I can about her before contacting her about going out on a date."

Lost in thought, he didn't wait for a reply before leaving the room. _Maybe I can get some advice from Moony_ , he considered. _Then again, I'm probably more likely to get laughed at by him..._

Walburga's eyes narrowed at the door that had just closed. _This could cause problems for my plans_ , she thought. _If he gets into a serious relationship and even marries, he might have children. That would be most inconvenient — even if he doesn't marry his own cousin, he's the product of too much past inbreeding in this family. We need a new direction, and children from Sirius won't give us that._

 _Then again_ , she realized, _he did say that she already has a son. And she's been married multiple times, mostly without having had children, it seems. She may not want any more. Researching her is clearly even more important than Sirius knew…._


	38. Ring of Fire

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Beltane Child" by White Angel of Auralon. During the Horcrux Hunt, Harry is desperate to get away and unwind, even for a single night. Sneaking out in disguise, he ends up playing the role of the Horned God in a Beltane ritual (only Harry, right?). A few months later, after the end of the war, he runs into a very pregnant Daphne Greengrass. Care to guess how she got that way? This is one of a very few Harry Potter fanfics which explore the idea of ancient pagan beliefs and rituals still playing a role in the wizarding world and was in some ways the inspiration for my giving them such a central role in this fic.

* * *

 **Chapter 38 - Ring of Fire**

 **Monday, January 31, 1996, 4:15 PM.**

When the Hogwarts witches portkeyed into Moel Tŷ Uchaf in Wales, they were greeted by what had become a familiar sight: dozens of veela making preparations for the upcoming magical ritual by tending a fire in the center of a stone circle, setting up an altar, and arranging candles on the many stones that made up the circle. For Jasmine and Hermione it would be an especially noteworthy celebration because the previous year's Imbolc had been the first magical holiday ritual they'd ever participated in — though they understood now that that had been a simplified ritual designed to make it easier for them to understand.

Upon seeing the goblins who were standing outside the circle, Jasmine and Hermione noticed that the female goblin who was usually hidden under a dark cloak had her hood down this time — and she was watching them intently. They both gave short bows of respect to the goblins (an act that was almost immediately imitated by their friends), then moved to join the many veela who were chatting and waiting for the ritual to start.

"Oh, my," Hermione said when she saw two figures who stood out quite prominently: Phoebe and Areto. "You two are... are..."

"Massive?" Phoebe suggested.

"How about gargantuan?" Areto said.

"Big as a house!" Gabrielle giggled.

"I wouldn't have used those words myself," Jasmine said dryly, "but I won't deny that they fit. When are you two due?"

"Tomorrow," Phoebe said nonchalantly.

"Tomorrow?!" Hermione exclaimed. "Then what are you doing here? You should be at home, resting!"

"And miss this year's Imbolc?" Areto said dismissively. "Not only is it your anniversary, but remember that it's a day that celebrates fertility, birth, and motherhood. How could we **not** be here — especially with you two participating?"

"Though the two days we had to spend travelling by muggle means caused me to reconsider a couple of times," Phoebe admitted.

"Why did you use muggle transportation?" Jasmine asked.

"At this late stage of pregnancy, it's a really bad idea to travel magically," Phoebe said. "It's possible, but it can place a lot of stress on the body and puts the baby at risk. Muggle methods may be uncomfortable, but they're safer in our condition."

" **Really** uncomfortable," Areto groaned, "so I'm not surprised that the others chose not to. I can't believe how cramped muggle trains can be!"

"What others?" Hermione asked.

"We weren't the only ones to get pregnant on Beltane," Areto explained. "Quite a few did, in fact, but none of the rest wanted to inconvenience themselves by travelling here for this celebration."

"Bunch of scaredy chicks is what they are," Phoebe sniffed.

Both Jasmine and Hermione spent some time gently touching Phoebe's and Areto's bellies, thinking about how their own magic had contributed to the creation of the two new lives waiting to enter the world. They were soon joined by the other Hogwarts witches, all of whom were extremely curious about the veela couple — a curiosity that had only increased now that they knew Jasmine and Hermione were a couple as well.

None of them noticed the small winces of pain that both Phoebe and Areto made every so often.

* * *

 **Monday, January 31, 1996, 4:45 PM.**

Once the proper time had arrived, they entered the stone circle in a line, lighting their candles at the altar before taking their places in a ring around the central fire.

Shortly after everyone was assembled, Apolline entered as she had the previous year, lighting her own candle then addressing the assembled witches. "Winter brought cold and darkness to our land, but neither the cold nor the dark can persist forever. Tonight we mark the moment when winter reaches its halfway point. Tonight we celebrate the emergence of new life as warmth and light begin to reassert themselves once more, both across the earth and in our hearts. So long as our respect for the goddesses remains strong, light and warmth will always accompany us."

She stopped and looked at two veela in particular. "We also celebrate the new life that will soon emerge from within our community. Normally we focus on examples of new life in nature around us, but this year we don't have to look any farther than our own circle." Everyone smiled at Phoebe and Areto, who were holding hands — and squeezing quite a bit harder than anyone else realized.

While Apolline was speaking, a wind had picked up and begun swirling snow around the stone circle, and it wasn't long before there was so much snow blowing that it wasn't possible to see far past the group of goblin observers. At the same time, magical energy had begun swirling around inside the circle as well, spinning inwards into the central fire.

Next, Sybine entered the circle carrying a lit candle that was nearly spent; this she dropped into the fire. "As the Winter Crone prepares to depart," Apolline continued, "the Spring Maiden approaches. Where our fields lay bare, the seeds of new life will soon begin to push up out of the dark and into the light. The frost retreats, the ground warms, and life emerges." Once again she looked at the two pregnant veela, then said, "As with the ground, so with the womb; as with the earth, so with the mother, the source of all new life."

Next a young girl — not Gabrielle this time — entered the circle with Brigid's rod. As Gabrielle had done, she walked in front of all the witches in the circle, striking the ground with the rod as she passed by each one. Every time she did so, the central fire rose higher and the swirling snow outside the circle spun faster.

"Brigid!" Apolline's voice rose above the growing din. "Goddess of healing, of fertility, and of motherhood, hear our call! Give us your blessing for new life! Grant your vessel the power to light and warm us from your fires!" The candle next to the statue of Brigid lit on its own with a blue flame, and the energy around Hermione's feet shifted to blue.

"Hekate!" Apolline continued. "Protector of children and families, hear our call! Bless us with the fortitude to stay on the path of the light! Grant your vessel the power to defend our homes and little ones!" The candle next to the threefold form of Hecate lit with a green flame, and the energy around Jasmine's feet shifted to green.

When the young girl finally reached Jasmine, absolutely everyone in the circle held their breath, and even the girl herself seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second. Then she banged the rod on the ground and... nothing special happened. Everyone let out a sigh of relief as she moved on, taking her place near the altar with Apolline and Sybine.

Next Fleur entered with a large chalice and began moving along the circle, offering it in turn to each witch. "Partake of this milk," Apolline said. "It is a sign of coming birth and the means by which a mother sustains the new life she has created. In this way, you are partaking of the life of our coven and community." As Fleur moved from witch to witch, the fire kept growing higher and the energy spun into it ever faster, causing some of the younger witches to begin swaying slightly from the drain.

Once the final participant had drunk, Apolline announced, "Go forth! Share the light and warmth with the world so that others may know the love and protection of the goddesses for their children!" As she spoke the final words, the fire collapsed as it did at the previous rituals, bursting out into the swirling snow and mixing with it as they both spread out like a wave across the land.

Only a few of the witches were knocked off their feet this time, and they only went to their knees. As Jasmine stood straight again and shook her head to clear it, she noticed that two had gone all the way to the ground and weren't getting back up: Phoebe and Areto. She and Hermione were among the first to reach them, and both veela were grimacing in pain.

"What is it? Is something wrong with the babies?" Apolline asked as she knelt down next to them.

"No," Phoebe said with a gasp. "But they are coming!"

"What, now?"

"Now!" Areto cried.

"Bloody hell!" Jasmine whispered.

* * *

The wave of magical fire and snow spread quickly through northern Wales and across central England into Lincolnshire. As the wave passed over Wales, however, it encountered another Imbolc ritual being performed in a small stone circle a little less than 100km to the southwest. Hitting that ritual at the right moment, it ignited the magic there and created a secondary wave that never would have been possible otherwise.

Combined, these two waves of magical energy now had enough power to spread all the way to the southern coast of Wales as well as the English counties of Shropshire and Hereford. The participants in that second ritual, though, were all overcome by the large amount of unexpected magic and knocked unconscious.

* * *

 **Monday, January 31, 1996, 6:30 PM.**

Phoebe cried out as she gripped Areto's hand; lying on the ground right next to her, Areto was clearly in as much pain herself.

"We've got to take them to St. Mungo's," Hermione said as she tried to comfort her friends.

"How far apart are the contractions?" Apolline asked.

"Seven minutes now," Fleur said. "Ze last one was forty seconds long."

"It's too late, then," Apolline said to Hermione. "While it's inadvisable for pregnant witches to use magical means of travel, it's _forbidden_ for witches actively in labor — and these two are officially in labor now."

"What are we going to do?" Hermione said, starting to panic. "We're not prepared. We can't—"

"Easy, lass," Minerva said, putting her hand on Hermione's shoulder. "These may not be ideal circumstances, but women have been having babies since long before hospitals existed. We'll manage."

"And veela are especially knowledgeable when it comes to pregnancy and birth," Sybine noted.

"The good news is that veela don't have to spend as much time in labor as other women," Adrienne added. "These two won't have an easy time of it, especially since this is their first, but all veela are at least familiar with childbirth. If there are any complications, _then_ you can worry; otherwise, you can be confident that everyone will get through this fine."

"I've got a complication," Minerva spoke up then with a frown, her wand out and moving in an intricate pattern. "I can't conjure anything. I wanted to at least create chairs for them to sit in, but it's not working."

"Nor should it," Apolline responded, "not in the wake of so much ritual magic having been released. Simple charms might work, at least temporarily, but nothing complex — and especially no wanded magic where you're trying to impose your will on reality in that manner. It's almost the antithesis of the feminine magic now suffusing this area — magic whose very essence works in harmony with nature. We'd have to walk some distance before such spells would function properly."

"Is someone injured? Is there anything we can do to help?" Lufestre asked as the goblins approached.

"Injured, no, but these two are about to give birth," Minerva said. "I don't suppose you carry anything that can help with that?"

Lufestre nodded and turned to Sharpaxe, who issued orders to his guards before turning back to the veela. "Goblins in the field always carry the elements of at least a basic camp with them — the bigger the troop, the more elaborate the camp. There aren't many of us, but we can at least ensure that your warriors have cots and blankets so they don't have to give birth in the snow and dirt."

"Given the size differences, though, I suppose we'll need to line up two of our cots for each of your warriors," Lufestre added with a rueful smile.

Sharpaxe nodded. "We have tents, too, but they are designed for defense in the field rather than luxury. I suspect they'll be too small."

"Doesn't anyone know any spells for making them bigger on the inside?" Jasmine asked.

"Even if that weren't complicated and difficult magic, we couldn't cast it on goblin tents," Minerva said. "That's why goblin-made items are so highly prized among wizards and witches: they're strong and spell resistant."

"Nor can we change them now," Sharpaxe added. "Our magic is primarily used during the process of crafting."

The goblin soldiers, all members of Sharpaxe's personal guard, quickly had a basic campsite erected in the stone circle. As Sharpaxe had predicted, none of the tents were large enough to accommodate both women (who refused to be separated) and those attending them. This meant their daughters would be born in the open under the stars — something which neither of them greatly regretted, especially since the central fire had been relit and kept most of the chill of late January away.

Veela and goblins mixed together indiscriminately in the impromptu campsite as everyone paced around, waiting anxiously.

* * *

When the five participants in that smaller ritual to the south woke up and looked around, they were at a complete loss as to what had happened.

One wizard pulled a wand and began casting detection spells. "That definitely wasn't our ritual — there's magic here that couldn't have come from any of us."

A second, taller wizard was also casting detection spells and added, "I think it came from... the north? Yes, definitely somewhere north of us."

"Do you think it was another ritual?" asked one witch.

"I've never heard of any celebration creating an effect like that," answered a second, "let alone one so large. And besides, no one else is supposed to be holding a ritual in Wales tonight."

"There are several sites in the north that would be well suited for rituals like ours," said the third witch in an accented voice, "and I'm pretty sure we've used them all in the past, so they should be easy to get to again. I think I'll go see who else is playing in this region."

"It's not safe!" the taller wizard said. "You don't know who did this. Or why."

"That was a tremendous amount of power that hit us," pointed out one of the other two witches. "Whoever could do that might be dangerous!"

"And we'll never know who they are if we don't look," the third witch responded. "Aren't you curious? Don't you want to know who else here is following the Old Ways? Whether they're potential friends or potential rivals, we can't afford to ignore a group exhibiting so much power, and this may be our best chance to learn something about them." With a crack, the olive-skinned witch disapparated in search of who or what created the massive wave of energy that had knocked them all unconscious.

* * *

 **Monday, January 31, 1996, 7:00 PM.**

While the mothers-to-be spent much of their time walking through their labor pains, the cots provided a welcome place to rest when needed; that hardly made it a pleasant process, however. Areto and Phoebe were gripping each other's hands so tightly that they probably would have crushed the hands of normal women.

"Contractions are now five minutes apart and lasting fifty seconds," Adrienne said. "It's taking a lot longer than it should, though. They should be much farther along by this point."

"Our soldiers have made their contribution," Lufestre said. "Perhaps I can contribute as well." Ignoring the others, she knelt between the two veela, who were now resting again on the cots, and began to chant quietly as she put one hand on the head of each.

"What is she doing?" Apolline asked.

"It's a prayer to the Goddess," Sharpaxe answered. "I can't quite hear her, but I think it's one that's usually used to ask the Goddess for help with the sick."

Slowly the contractions came more frequently and lasted longer, but their suffering was clearly reduced — the two women were undeniably uncomfortable, but they no longer cried out in pain. The improvement seemed to make time pass more quickly — especially for the two enduring labor — and soon the wails of two newborn veela filled the air.

Cheers from the rest of the camp soon followed, and the goblin warriors broke into song as part of a traditional celebration of a new birth. Apparently one of the most essential pieces of equipment in any goblin camp was a cask of goblin ale, for reasons that no one bothered to explain. It was quickly opened, and mugs were passed around to celebrate the two births.

* * *

The olive-skinned witch looked around at the third ancient magical site she'd visited and found absolutely no sign of any rituals having been performed there in years, and certainly nothing of the power she'd felt wash over her earlier in the evening. "If I don't find the right site soon," she muttered to herself, "they'll probably be gone... if they aren't already."

She then apparated to the next likely location.

* * *

 **Monday, January 31, 1996, 7:30 PM.**

"I see you two are wearing the bracelets given to you on Yule," Lufestre said to Jasmine. She and Hermione had chosen to sit with the obviously tired High Priestess while others tended to the new mothers and their daughters and the rest celebrated.

"Yes, we both like them," Hermione responded.

"Have you discovered anything about them?" Lufestre asked. "Anything that might hint at where they came from, who made them, or who gifted them?"

"No, unfortunately not," Jasmine said as she ran a thumb across the metal. "Only... they feel comforting, somehow. It's hard to describe."

"I think I understand what you mean," Lufestre replied, absently fingering the brooch which was hidden beneath her outer robe.

"What is that word I keep hearing in the song the goblin warriors are singing?" Jasmine asked.

"Hellyon, you mean?"

"Yes, I think that's it."

"That's our word for infant or young child," Lufestre said. "It's a shortened form of a much older word that, literally translated, would mean something like 'one who needs nurturing.'"

"That's interesting," Hermione commented.

"It's why our queen adopted the name Hellraiser when she ascended the throne," Lufestre continued. "It's akin to 'mother' or 'one who nurtures' because that is what she is to our people. Her job is not so much to rule and command, but rather to nurture the rest of us so that we can live the best and most fulfilling lives possible."

"Wow," Jasmine said, taken aback. "In English that word means something so very, very different..."

Lufestre laughed. "So I learned when I studied your language. We all found it amusing at first, but then we realized that it might lead to horrible misunderstandings."

"That makes me wonder how many such misunderstandings there have been," Jasmine said. "I mean, in our History of Magic class, the professor drones on and on about 'goblin rebellions,' but how many of those rebellions were due to similar misunderstandings? How many of those goblin leaders had scary names because of mistranslations?"

"That's pretty deep, Jas," Hermione said admiringly.

"Always the tone of surprise," her girlfriend replied with a bit of a pout.

Lufestre laughed again. "That's a good point. It sounds like you witches and wizards learn mostly unflattering things about my people. We should look into what can be done to change that."

Before either witch could explore that possibility further, Fleur and Gabrielle appeared and dragged the two back to where the new mothers were resting with their infants. "We decided it was about time for you to meet your new goddaughters," Fleur said with a grin.

"Goddaughters?" Jasmine squeaked.

"Yes, if you're willing," Phoebe replied. Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, then turned back and nodded.

"Hermione," Phoebe said, "meet Ayella Lablanc."

"Jasmine," Areto said, "meet Diantha Lagrand."

"They're so small," Hermione whispered, her eyes wide and full of wonder.

"Strong, too," Sharpaxe commented approvingly, wiggling his finger as it was held by a tiny fist.

"How soon before you all can travel?" Jasmine asked while Diantha looked at her with an unusual intensity.

"At least a day," Adrienne said resignedly. "Sharpaxe says the wards will last, and he's promised to leave guards to help us since only a few Amazzi attended this time."

"It's a pity my parents had to leave the country," Hermione said. "I could call and ask them to bring their car."

Daphne, who had come closer to see the newborns, started looking uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" Jasmine asked her.

"Well... I might be able to help with that," Daphne said.

"How? I wouldn't expect you to know any muggles with a car," Hermione responded.

"Not muggles — my parents," Daphne answered. "You won't hear it talked about openly, but a lot of purebloods have cars. They don't need them, but they find automobiles fascinating — especially expensive luxury cars. My parents have one, I don't know what kind, but like most rich purebloods they had a lot of charms put on it: space expansion, comfort, and even flying."

"Wow," Jasmine whispered. "Mr. Weasley wasn't so strange after all."

"The problem is," Daphne continued, "if I call them in, they'll ask all sorts of questions. I don't think I'll be able to keep hiding what we've been doing..."

"Don't worry about it," Adrienne reassured her. "We'll manage. We can—"

Whatever Adrienne was going to say was lost in the commotion as an alarm sounded and both goblin and veela warriors rushed to the perimeter of the circle. "Intruders!" called out one of the goblins.

"You!" Sharpaxe barked as he pointed to a group of six of his personal guard, then pointed back to the High Priestess, the new mothers, and their infants. "Stay with them. I want you to stand between them and any harm, understood?" He then went to the goblin who originally called out the alarm. "Report!" he commanded as he got to the edge of the stones where veela and goblins stood side-by-side, facing out into the night.

"Only one so far," the warrior said. "They tried to apparate in and got redirected to the outer markers."

"Will your wards keep them out?" Apolline asked.

"Depends," Sharpaxe responded. "These wards are designed to distract and conceal, not create a hardened defense for battle. If they already know the site, they won't be fooled into thinking that nothing's here. If they have a strong enough desire to visit the site, they won't be easily distracted into going off to do something else. We couldn't risk erecting stronger defenses without detection by your Ministry, so we had to stick with more subtle methods."

There was little moonlight, and not even the goblins were able to see the approaching figure until they were only ten meters away.

"Halt!" Sharpaxe called out, and the person stopped almost immediately. "State your business!"

"I... I wanted to see what was happening here," came a female voice with a foreign accent.

"None of your business!" the goblin commander said sharply. "Why do you care?"

"We felt a wave of magical energy wash over us during our ritual," she said. "I assume it was from here? From you?"

"How many are you?" Sharpaxe demanded, ignoring her question. "Where are the rest?"

"There is only me," she replied. "The others didn't want to come."

Sharpaxe didn't look mollified. "If you're lying, you'll be the first to be struck down. Now why do you think we did anything?"

"None of the other sites I've checked show any sign of recent magical use," she said. "Here though... here I can feel the magic everywhere, just like at the site in Hirnant where we performed our ritual."

Just then one of the babies started to cry loudly.

"Why do you have a little _bambina_ there with you?" the witch asked, sounding offended. "These rituals aren't a good place for one so young!"

"I... I know that voice!" Jasmine whispered.

Sharpaxe looked at her with a scowl. "Are you sure? Were you followed here?"

"Pretty sure," she replied, "and I don't see how we could have been followed."

"Can't drop our guard," Sharpaxe muttered, then whispered to the warriors to keep their weapons at the ready. Even the veela obeyed, despite never having received instructions to follow orders from a goblin commander.

"Keep your hands empty and out to your sides, then you can approach," Sharpaxe said. "Slowly!"

Everyone heard the witch mutter something that was probably insulting, but none could make out the words. She did, however, put her empty hands out to her sides and walk slowly towards the stone circle. Once she came into the light and everyone could see her, no less than four Hogwarts students cried out simultaneously: "Mrs. Zabini?!"

"Daphne? Tracey? Miss Potter? Miss Granger?" she responded. "What are you all doing here? Why aren't you in school?" Only then did she notice the wands and swords pointed at her, held by a mixed group of squat goblins and tall, blonde women. "My, my," she said as her eyes roved over everyone. "Such interesting company you keep. I had no idea."

"Who are you?" demanded Sharpaxe. "How do you know these witches?"

"I am Alessandra Zabini," she replied a little haughtily. "My son attends Hogwarts with... well, with all of these young witches, I guess, but he has been close friends with two of them ever since he started school there. Where is he, by the way? Blaise!"

The second baby chose that moment to join her sister in crying.

"And once again," Alessandra said, "why do you have not one but two little _bambinas_ here?"

"Not exactly by choice," Daphne replied. "Their mothers just gave birth to them, and we can't transport them magically for at least a day. I was... I was thinking of trying to contact my parents so we could use their car, but—"

"No, I said we won't put you at risk," Adrienne interrupted. "We'll be fine here for a day or so."

"A day or so!" Alessandra exclaimed, outraged. "A day or so! You can't leave two newborns and their mothers outside in January, even with warming charms!"

"And what do you suggest?" growled Sharpaxe. "I think we might be noticed if we tried carrying them down into the local muggle village."

"I have a car!" Alessandra announced. "More than one, but I don't think I'd be able to fit two mothers and their infants in my Ferrari. My third husband, though, owned a beautiful Rolls Royce that he treated like his baby, and I could never bear to part with it, even though I don't drive it myself. It's too big and bulky for me, but I think it would be perfect for this."

Sharpaxe turned to Adrienne. "I haven't the slightest idea what a Ferrari or a Rolly Royce is. I don't even know if we can trust her. What do you say?"

Adrienne looked at Daphne and raised an inquiring eyebrow; after a moment, Daphne nodded.

"Alright, we accept," she said to Alessandra. "How far away is this car? How long will it take to drive back here?"

"I live outside Cardiff," she replied. "It shouldn't take too long to fly back, especially at night."

"I'll go with you," Apolline announced.

"Fine," Alessandra said, though she didn't look entirely happy about it. "Blaise can come as well. I'd like to know why he participated in this without telling me first. If he was so anxious to take part in another ritual, we would have welcomed him at Hirnant."

"Uh, he isn't here," Daphne said awkwardly.

"Why not?"

"He... wasn't invited," Daphne responded.

"This was a female-only ritual," Apolline explained.

Alessandra looked at her for a moment, then looked down at the obviously male goblin with an eyepatch.

Sharpaxe snorted. "We provided security, nothing more. We stood outside the circle and protected those inside."

Alessandra nodded, then looked around more carefully, noting the appearance of the women. "Veela?" she asked. When Apolline nodded, Alessandra continued, "I'd heard rumors about veela female rituals. I'd be interested in hearing about them and learning how they differ from what I am used to."

She then looked back at Jasmine and said, "Very interesting company indeed, mia cara. You are full of surprises, aren't you? I hope you'll consider inviting Blaise next time, though. He might learn something by watching."

"I'm not sure he'd accept," Jasmine said hesitantly. "He knows about this, but he took issue with it."

"He seemed to think there was something fundamentally wrong with an all-female ritual," Daphne explained. "Though he also seemed conflicted about it."

Alessandra raised one eyebrow. "Did he now? Well, you should come along, too. On the trip back you can tell me what nonsense my Blaise has been saying."

It took a little bit for the three witches to finally leave, mostly because Alessandra insisted on seeing and then cooing over the newborns.

* * *

 **Monday, January 31, 1996, 10:00 PM.**

It only took Alessandra about ten minutes to take the other two witches to Cardiff in two side-along trips, then almost two hours for her to fly back in the 1965 Phantom which her third husband had loved so much. She was right that there was plenty of room — more than enough for both mothers to stretch out with their new daughters as well as for Apolline and Adrienne to accompany them. The rest of the veela would make their own way back, the goblins would return to Gringotts, and the professors would get the students back to Hogwarts — while hopefully avoiding notice by Umbridge or the Headmaster.

Before everyone went their separate ways, Alessandra took Jasmine, Hermione, Daphne, and Tracey aside. "We're all going to have to have a long talk," she said. "It's a shame we can't now, but the trip to Calais and back will take forever. There's a lot more going on here than you've told me, I can tell — and I have a feeling that whatever it is will affect my Blaise, which means it affects me, too. Young witches like you shouldn't be dabbling in the sort of power that had to have been produced here, but I'm not your mother, so I can't tell you what to do."

She then turned to speak to Daphne directly. "Tell Blaise to stop being such an _idiota_. I'll be in Hogsmeade on the twelfth to meet with you — him first in the morning, then I want to talk to the rest of you in the afternoon. _Capite?_ "

* * *

 **Thursday, February 3, 1996, Afternoon.**

This time, Tonks didn't feel the need to collapse, but she did have to bend over to take a few deep breaths. She was getting used to casting with a blood sacrifice, but it still took a lot out of her. After a moment, she could focus enough to look around at the ghostly images flashing in and out in the stone circle located in northern Wales. It had been a complete fluke that she received information about a surge of magic in Wales, and it had only taken her a few days beyond that to track down its origin point.

Now she was getting real information. There were numerous flashes of figures standing in the circle, and as she watched, she was finally able to recognize that all looked like they were female. _That's unexpected_ , Tonks thought. _Not a single one of them appears to be a wizard. Why? Or did I do something wrong with the spell?_

Then she saw what looked like two of them being injured in the magical backlash, which didn't surprise her given how dangerous such rituals could be. It was the apparent involvement of goblins that freaked her out. _Witches and goblins working together? In magical rituals? What in Merlin's name is going on here?_

Once the spell ended and the images petered out, Tonks wasn't sure what to do. She had developed new and interesting intelligence, but she couldn't use any of it. She wasn't even sure that she believed any of it herself, and certainly didn't think she'd be able to convince anyone else.

 _I need more. Maybe there's something important that I'm missing_ , she thought. _I can either wait and hope that I get a lucky break again or... or I try to see what might have been happening around Hogwarts. That's the one site I haven't checked yet, though it's not definite that anything happened there. Any investigation there will take bloody forever, though, and I can't even be sure that I'll find anything._

 _But I can't count on luck, either. So, Hogwarts it is..._


	39. Black Magic Woman

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "I, Alone" by EJ Daniels. In the books, we don't see much overt abuse of Harry Potter, but it's clear that he's taught by the Dursleys to not have any self-worth. How would such a child react when faced with his status and apparent destiny in the wizarding world. Not very well...

* * *

 **Chapter 39 - Black Magic Woman**

 **Friday, February 4, 1996, Morning.**

Educational Decree Number One Hundred Twenty-Nine, "Students must adhere to all new restrictions regarding Library and Common Room access," was the primary topic of discussion throughout much of the Great Hall, and nowhere more so than among the Gryffindors.

"I guess it was too much to hope that she'd never notice that loophole," Ginny said resignedly.

"Unless this new decree was aimed at something else and only closes the loophole as a coincidence," Hermione said, suddenly frowning.

"But what would be the point, if not to shut down the practical lessons in the common rooms?" Ginny asked.

"What about when we brought in the non-Gryffindors right after we came back from hols last month?" Hermione asked. "What if that's what she wants to stop? She's had enough time to make up that list of restrictions that was posted on our bulletin board."

"But how would she know about that night?" Neville asked. "Didn't you say that Dumbledore left it to McGonagall?"

"She'd know if there were someone in Gryffindor who's reporting to her," Jasmine said ominously.

"That might be how she found out about your scar," Ron pointed out. The previous week Umbridge had accosted Jasmine outside the Great Hall, accusing her of violating the decree which banned using magic to change "physical abnormalities." Jasmine always kept her bangs covering her scar, so she had no idea how Umbridge had known that there had been a change; but nothing she said could convince the woman that she hadn't violated any decree.

It was only Professor McGonagall coming by and repeatedly casting _Finite_ and other cancellation spells which got Umbridge to accept that Jasmine hadn't cast any sort of charm or transfiguration on her forehead. When she walked away, however, both McGonagall and Jasmine heard her muttering about "Dark Magic," so they knew that they probably hadn't heard the end of it.

* * *

 **Friday, February 4, 1996, Late Morning.**

"Mr. Zabini? Please stay after class. You, too, Miss Potter and Miss Granger."

If Blaise was surprised at being kept back after Defense, he didn't let it show on his face — but then, he rarely showed emotions, and he seemed to be even more tightly controlled ever since he'd half-isolated himself in the wake of Jasmine and Hermione's revelations. Daphne and Tracey had been sticking close so as to avoid giving the impression of a split that might put him in danger, but he'd been speaking to them even less than usual.

He didn't speak to Fleur either; he just stood in front of her desk and waited. She returned the silent treatment and handed him a sealed parchment envelope. Seeing his mother's handwriting on the outside finally elicited a reaction, and when his eyes shot up to her, she said, "Yes, zat is from your mother. No, I do not know ze contents. I am to tell you zat you may speak to me about zem at any time if you wish, but zat you will be speaking to her in Hogsmeade next Saturday morning."

"You... spoke to my mother?" Blaise asked, apparently unsure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Yes," Fleur replied, "but not about zat letter. Now shoo — I must speak to your friends."

Blaise betrayed a flash of embarrassment at her use of the term "friends," but he quickly left, and Fleur silenced and sealed the door after him.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked. "You look unhappy."

"It is Blaise's mother," Fleur replied. "She is... a potential problem."

"Oh, no," Jasmine groaned as she sat down again. "What happened?"

"It is not all bad," Fleur assured them. "At least, not yet. My mother, Adrienne, and ze others questioned her carefully on the trip to France. Zey also directed her to ze address of a safe house where zey knew Amazzi would be waiting and... _persuaded_ Mrs. Zabini to stay a while for more... _discussion_."

"Oh, dear," Hermione said, now sitting down as well.

"You must understand, she stumbled onto something very important and very secret," Fleur insisted, clearly distressed. "She could not just be allowed to walk away without any precautions. You may remember zat she mentioned taking part in a ritual herself? Well, zat was true. It turns out zat she is part of a group zat follows ze old ways in Britain. Zis, plus her lack of fondness for ze Ministry makes her a natural ally. However, a potential ally is not ze same as a friend — a friend who keeps your secrets and stands by you, even at risk to themselves."

"I'm assuming that your mother and the others got some sort of promise or oath out of her?" Hermione asked.

"I do not know all ze details, but she was apparently quite put out at her initial treatment," Fleur said. "She became much more understanding, but ze discussions never became entirely friendly. Regardless, once my mother and Adrienne learned what her interests were, zey persuaded her that she could learn things zat would benefit her, but only under a strict oath. Once she took it, she was informed about ze prophecy and ze rituals."

"What about our relationship?" Jasmine asked.

"Not zat, and certainly not ze soul bond," Fleur responded. "However, the prophecy has surely allowed her to reach certain conclusions. You can tell her directly if you want — my mother has ensured zat any information you give is covered under ze oath, or you can let her speculate. Either way, zough, she is at least partially on board."

"How so? Is she going to help with our rituals or something?" Jasmine asked.

"I don't believe she will, zough she may observe a time or two," Fleur responded. "Ze numbers of witches and wizards in Britain who follow ze old ways are small, but zeir interests align with ours. Zey will have no problems supporting female-only and veela rituals, and Mrs. Zabini is interested in making feminine magic more prominent."

"I suppose we will need the support of British wizards and witches eventually," Hermione observed. "I never thought much about how we'd go about getting that."

"Hopefully zat is not something you would have to worry about for a while," Fleur said, "but with how ze Daily Prophet slanders you, you'll need all ze help you can get. Ze support of Mrs. Zabini is a good first step. If nothing else, having local resources in an emergency can be vital — she proved that to us on ze night of Imbolc, no?"

"Yeah, emergency childbirth is hardly something you can plan ahead for. Although those two probably shouldn't have been out in the first place..." Hermione shook her head ruefully. "Speaking of which, how are the babies?"

"Zey and zeir mothers are doing well, last I heard," Fleur said. "But you need to get going or you'll miss lunch!"

"Yes, Professor!" they chorused as they left.

* * *

 **Monday, February 7, 1996, Morning.**

Even though the Imbolc celebration had taken place a week ago, the witches were still benefitting from the infusion of magic they had received, and their spirits were high as they entered the Great Hall for breakfast. It all came crashing down, however, with the delivery of Monday's _Daily Prophet_ , which was emblazoned with a headline designed to incite plenty of negative reaction:

 **DARK WITCHES AT HOGWARTS! ARE STUDENTS SAFE?**

What followed was nothing less than a full-blown character assassination against Jasmine and Hermione. The article began with accusations of them using dark magic back in the summer to assassinate adult wizards (with of course no mention of the fact that Hermione's family had nearly been murdered by Death Eaters). This was immediately followed with allegations of them using more dark magic on the night before the spring term started — and once again, the "victims" were identified no further than being adult wizards. Their attacks on others were not mentioned.

According to the author, who for some reason wished to remain anonymous, Jasmine Potter was an "unstable personality" whose inner demons had "driven her into the arms of dark magic." This conclusion was bolstered with anonymous claims about her being mistreated as a child by her muggle guardians, including being locked up with bars on her window.

Hermione was denounced as a "calculating personality" with a predilection for magics that allowed her to control others. This had enabled her to ensnare The Girl Who Lived, speeding up her slide into dark magic use and creating a team of dark witches who were a danger to those around them — either by seducing others into the dark arts or using those same dark arts against anyone who dared stand in their way.

Finally, the author called on the Ministry to stop Dumbledore from protecting such obviously deranged and dangerous witches, lest more of the country's youth fall victim to their evil machinations.

"I can't believe this," Hermione hissed, her breakfast forgotten. "Where do they get this stuff?"

"I was wondering the same thing," Jasmine said with a scowl. "I'm particularly interested in where they got the information about my childhood."

"They're just using whatever they can to make you look bad," Neville said.

"Of course they are," Jasmine agreed. "But there's one problem: hardly anyone in the world knew about some of this." That comment brought everyone up short. "Mentioning the existence of bars on my windows is what's especially telling. It's not something that someone would have managed to guess by accident while trying to destroy my reputation. The author here got that little fact from someone who _knew_. And the list of such people is awfully short."

"Who?" Neville asked, eyes narrowed.

"The Dursleys, of course, but they wouldn't have talked. Not willingly," Jasmine said. "Me and Hermione, and we didn't talk either. Ron and the twins. Mr. and... well, Mrs. Weasley."

"I knew," Ginny said in a low voice. "I wasn't there, but I overheard everyone talking about it."

Ron's face went red as he said, "And there was one other person who was around that summer."

"Percy!" spat several people at once.

"I think we still have those bars in the shed at home," Ron went on in a low voice. "I'm going to get them, and then I'm going to shove them so far up Percy's—"

"Jasmine, look!" Hermione cried, interrupting Ron as she pointed up at several owls coming their way and carrying red envelopes.

"Oh, I'm starting to hate how the mail redirection spell on me has weakened," Jasmine muttered as she grabbed some toast and exited the Great Hall just ahead of a small flood of howlers.

Up at the staff table, Dolores Umbridge sat smiling, and no one dared ask her how those howlers had gotten through despite the Ministry ban on them at Hogwarts.

* * *

 **Friday, February 11, 1996, Night.**

"I'm **so** glad this week is done," Jasmine groaned as she lay back in her bed next to Hermione. Every day the two of them had to rush their breakfast in order to avoid the howlers that kept coming earlier and earlier. Dumbledore's annoyed expression made it clear that he didn't understand why she was getting unapproved mail and hadn't figured out how to stop it. Neither witch wanted to admit that they had started feeling a lot of sympathy for his decision so many years ago to block her mail.

"Me, too," her girlfriend said fervently. "I don't think I could stand to see Umbridge's horrid smile one more time." The gleeful look on the Pink Toad Lady's face was making it clear just how personal their fight against the Ministry had become. Umbridge wasn't reluctantly carrying out a task that was merely necessary — no, she was clearly enjoying herself thoroughly and probably wouldn't stop until her two targets had been utterly destroyed. This was reinforced by Umbridge increasing her harassment of them in the corridors and classes, constantly showing up near them and making regular insinuations about how dangerous they were.

Had Jasmine and Hermione not been so distracted, they might have noticed that Gabrielle had arrived at the same conclusion about Umbridge's true nature — and that it did not bode well for the older witch's future good health.

Over the course of the week, two further articles were published on the allegedly dark nature of Jasmine and Hermione. They started from a bare thread of truth — like the fact that Jasmine was a parselmouth, or the leaked revelation that Hermione had used a Time-Turner in third year — and built on that minimalist foundation a tower of lies, innuendo, and misrepresentations that made both young witches look like the reincarnation of Morgana Le Fay.

There was, however, some good news in all that. First, whoever was writing the articles hadn't caught on to some of the _actual_ truths which would see Jasmine and Hermione condemned by many. The fact that they had to stretch what little truth they had and then lie the rest of the time simply demonstrated how desperate Ministry leaders were. Second, the smear campaign hadn't yet extended to anyone in their study group — at least not by name — which meant that they were safe for the time being.

Finally, according to others in the study group, there had been little decrease in Jasmine or Hermione's popularity in the school. The articles had influenced a few students, and would probably influence more over time, but so far most were standing by the two Gryffindors. This support remained strongest among witches, a difference that the study group attributed to the fact that everyone continued to recognize Jasmine and Hermione as the source of certain books which were still incredibly influential, teaching witches about their bodies, about sex, and about why they should never be satisfied with being treated as inferior.

"We're lucky we're in Hogwarts," Jasmine pointed out. "If we had already graduated and were trying to make a living out in the magical community, we'd probably have trumped-up criminal charges leveled against us."

"I hate to say it," Hermione said with a resigned sigh, "but we're lucky that we're in Hogwarts _while Dumbledore is headmaster._ For all the horrible things he's done, there are people who would do even more horrible things to us both, and he genuinely wants to protect us from it all. "

* * *

"Why is it taking our infiltrator so long to create a path into the target?" the recent recruit asked. One of the first to be brought in from Albania, he was prone to ask questions on topics that the rest knew to be silent about.

The other shrugged, wishing for a way to avoid discussing this openly. "His job will take as long as it takes. And if it takes too long, our master will punish him. If he does it quickly and well, our master will reward him."

"Seems to be taking much too long, if you ask me," the recruit said. "He's been working on this for... what? Three months now? More? If he's that incompetent, he should be replaced."

"Unfortunately, replacements for this particular position are not easy to come by," came a voice from behind him. When they turned around, they saw one of Voldemort's inner circle. "You," he said, pointing at the newest recruit. "Come with me."

Once he was alone, the other Death Eater fairly flew in the other direction, wanting to get away as quickly as possible. Up on the wall, one of the portraits scowled.

* * *

 **Saturday, February 12, 1996, Morning.**

Blaise approached the door with a great deal of trepidation. His mother had instructed him to meet her in a private room in the Three Broomsticks after breakfast, but she didn't explain why. This was the first time his mother had ever done anything like this, and he knew it had to be important. He simply wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

After taking one last deep breath, he knocked and waited. It was scarcely a moment before his mother opened the door and pulled him into a tight hug. Here, away from the judging eyes of his fellow students, he found it easy to return the gesture and not resent her constant fussing.

"Blaise! _Mio passerotto!"_ she said warmly, "I'm glad you got here so quickly. We have much to discuss, and I have an appointment to meet others after lunch."

"Now," she went on once they were seated across from each other at the room's small table. "What in the world am I going to do with you, hmm?" Blaise frowned in confusion, not having expected that he himself might be the subject of this meeting. "I had a very, very interesting Imbolc ceremony this year," she continued. "We performed our ritual at Hirnant, as I told you we would, and everything was completely normal until the end, when we were all knocked unconscious by a massive wave of magic."

Blaise was about to ask if she was alright, but he stopped himself as he began to realize where such a wave of magic might have originated from.

"The others were afraid, but I decided that I wanted to investigate where it came from. Do you know what I found? Or perhaps I should say, _whom_ I found, _mio patatino_?" Blaise tried to school his face against showing a reaction, but he knew he hadn't been successful when she continued, "Yes, I can see you know exactly whom I am talking about. As surprising as that was, though, I was even more surprised — not to mention disappointed — when I learned that you objected to what they were doing!"

"Of course I objected!" Blaise retorted with surprising vehemence. "You've taught me all my life about the importance of the god and the goddess in magic. You've always been clear about the need for balance in nature and how we wizards and witches should strive for balance in our lives. Such female-only rituals do the exact opposite!"

"Oh, Blaise," his mother said sadly. "I'm so sorry — that isn't what I intended you to learn. Yes, I taught you our traditions, but that doesn't mean that there aren't other ways of doing things. I taught you in the manner that I was raised. In the manner that your father was raised. I taught you what I tried to teach all my later husbands, even if they proved unwilling to fully embrace the old ways. One of the things that I tried to teach you is that there is no single, right way of doing things."

"I know that," Blaise said. "I know that the exact words and movements aren't critical. But the role of the god and goddess is always key. They are essential aspects of nature and magic which are owed our respect."

"They are essential because that's how we happen to structure things in our traditions," his mother countered. "They are traditional forms that are older than history, so most who follow the old ways continue to use them. They are comfortable and familiar, but it's not as if any gods or goddesses have ever appeared among us and handed us a rule book that we're all obligated to follow!"

Blaise gaped slightly at her, not having ever thought about it that way.

"What you need to understand, and what I apparently failed to teach you, is that our structures and traditions exist as a means to an end, not as an end in and of themselves. They are a means to encourage and communicate respect for Magic and the world around us. To remind us of where we come from — that we are part of nature rather than separate from it. And of course, to encourage and express love for one another. That's what's important. Obviously I think that including both the god and the goddess makes that easier, but I would never say that it's indispensable. And for an all-female culture, what else would you expect but female rituals centered on goddesses?" A thought seemed to occur to her then. "Perhaps the balance they provide has more to do with the larger picture — with keeping alive reverence for the goddesses even as it fades in the broader magical community."

Blaise frowned and looked down at the table in front of him, trying to sort through these ideas. Although his mother had never explained things to him in quite these words, he recognized several things that she had said in one form or another.

"Do these witches show respect?" she asked at last. "Do they show love? If so, then they can't be doing things too wrong, and they deserve a lot better from you than what I hear they have been getting recently."

Blaise couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed. "I... I haven't been sure what to do," he admitted. "They are all good people, and when I first heard about the rituals they were doing, I was amazed. I was so happy that I'd found more people who shared the same beliefs and practices as us, but once the details became clear, I... I felt so conflicted. I knew that they must be doing something right, otherwise the rituals wouldn't have worked. But everything you taught me seemed to say that they were doing things wrong."

"Well, that's something, at least," his mother said as she reached out and patted his hand. "I didn't raise you to be a zealot. It's one thing to not feel entirely comfortable with a different way of doing things, but another to condemn it outright."

"How much do you know about them?" Blaise asked, concerned about how much he could say without violating the trust he'd been shown. Even when he was most upset about what he'd learned, he had remained committed to keeping their secrets.

"Not everything, I am sure," his mother answered. "After helping a couple of the veela there, I was... invited to discuss matters. Whether I wanted to or not."

Blaise instantly tensed at his mother's words. "Did they hurt you?" he asked.

"No," she said as she shook her head. "But their suspicion was understandable. These veela have important secrets that they cannot afford to become widely known. You know these secrets, do you not? The prophecy? The nature of these rituals?" Blaise nodded. "So they have valid concerns, and I had to assuage their fears before they would start trusting me."

"Do they trust you now?" Blaise asked.

His mother shrugged. "Some, but certainly not as much as they would trust you, if you let them. They have absolute trust in Miss Potter, and by extension, in anyone she herself trusts." Blaise looked down, his shame at his behavior rising up again. "I intend to work with them, so hopefully trust will develop. In the meantime, I am under a strict oath regarding the secrets they needed to tell me and any secrets which Miss Potter chooses to share."

"Work with them?" Blaise asked. "How? I can't imagine that they'd find the family import/export business to be useful."

"You'd be surprised," his mother said cryptically, "but that's not what I meant. Once I got their story, it became clear to me that there's never been a better opportunity to bring the old ways back into the light."

"I don't understand," Blaise said with a frown. "Won't they promote their own ritual forms?"

"Of course," his mother agreed readily, "but unless they intend to transform us all into veela, or at least into witches, that won't matter. The more popular their rituals become, the more interest there will be in practices that offer a prominent role for wizards. So the more they win, the more we win as well — but without the extra risk of being out in front where we might attract the most negative attention."

Blaise nodded, understanding the value of letting someone else be the focus of opposition. At the same time, though, such an approach felt like a betrayal of his friends. He wasn't sure that he'd be willing to let his friends take all the heat while he hid in the background as his mother seemed to be advocating.

"Listen close, _Topolino_ ," she said as she leaned towards him. "I want you to be careful around those witches. I know they are your friends, but they've changed. They are continuing to change, in fact, and I have no idea where these changes are taking them. The power they are channeling is beyond comprehension — and more importantly, it is beyond control as well. It's not power that any single witch or any coven of witches can hope to control. Such power is incredibly dangerous. You need to watch yourself and be prepared to get away if you need to in order to protect yourself. Do you understand?"

Blaise nodded, even though he didn't really. He knew that they were channeling a lot of power, but he also knew that that power was producing incredibly positive benefits. How could that be dangerous?

* * *

Minerva McGonagall had never felt any hesitation upon entering any of the rooms of the Gryffindor tower — not even when she was a student, and certainly not since she had become Head of House. Today that changed, because she was about to have a conversation she'd never expected to have with a person she'd never expected to meet — even if it was as a magical portrait.

"Miss Black?" she asked softly as she entered the fifth year girls' dorm.

"Professor McGonagall?" she heard from a bare corner. "Please, call me Elladora. There's no need to stand on formality."

"Of course, and please call me Minerva," she said. "I... well, I've never done anything like this."

"I understand," the portrait said sympathetically. "We don't have to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable, but maybe it would be easier for you to start asking me questions. I'm sure you have a few."

Minerva nodded before sealing and silencing the door, then conjuring a chair to sit in. "Did you really... are you really D. Tempest Pureheart?"

"Yes, I am," she responded. "Elladora can be translated as 'gift of the whirlwind,' and I picked 'Dorea Tempest' as a variation on that. I picked 'Pureheart' because it seemed to embody an important part of the philosophy I wrote about. It also related somewhat to the motto of the House of Black: Always Pure."

"How many people know?" Minerva asked. "Or have known?"

"Well, you're the first person I've ever told directly." Minerva felt her eyes widen in surprise. "Oh, yes, it's true. I arranged for publication of the book with a sympathetic publisher via owl post, all anonymously. Same with distribution. Hermione obviously figured it out, which still impresses me. One other person figured it out, too: Violette Bulstrode. She married Cygnus Black, and at some point after she moved into the family home, I think she must have read some notes or letters that I neglected to secure in my desk. She named her second daughter Dorea, which was too much of a coincidence, and when she presented young Dorea to the family for the first time, she winked at me. That's when I knew."

"So no one else?" Minerva asked, surprised at the story.

"Others knew about my... preferences," Elladora said. "In a family with that many children available for marriages of alliance and to carry on the name, someone like me could be tolerated so long as I kept my activities away from public scrutiny. In other, smaller families, a witch like me would have been expected to marry and produce children."

"I wonder if that was how it was for Violette," Minerva mused.

Elladora nodded. "I suspect so. She obviously read my book, and it wasn't something that a witch could easily stumble across accidentally. And she obviously wasn't bothered by it, either, especially if she was willing to name a daughter after my pseudonym. So yes, it's likely." They were silent for a long while before the portrait asked, "When did you first figure it out? About yourself?"

Minerva's brows furrowed in thought. "I'm not sure, really. Looking back, I'm not sure that there was any one, single moment. I never gave wizards a second look, and it never occurred to me that that was odd. Instead I gradually fell in love with my best friend — we did everything together from an early age. We were always so close that I couldn't even tell you when I fell in love with her. One day it was simply obvious to me, and I never looked back."

Bit by bit, Elladora got Minerva to open up about her past, about her relationship with Bonnie, and about how it all fell apart one day when her father caught them together.

"So there hasn't been anyone else since Bonnie?" Elladora asked.

Minerva shook her head. "I tried a few times with wizards, mostly to appease my father, but it didn't take long to realize that it would never work out. I met a couple of witches whom I found attractive and whom I thought might be worth getting to know a bit better, but I never felt comfortable making the first move."

"It sounds like you were developing a special bond with her, a bond you were never able to develop with anyone else afterwards," Elladora observed.

Minerva arched one eyebrow. "I've long suspected that, though by the time I realized it, it was far too late to repair the damage."

"I'm so sorry," Elladora said sincerely. Minerva hung her head and nodded.

* * *

 **Saturday, February 12, 1996, Afternoon.**

"Most of what I could get involved rumors about how she killed her seven husbands," Lycoris said. "Each story was more gruesome than the last."

"I'm guessing she's not thought of very highly?" Sirius asked.

Lycoris shrugged. "Some of the witches seem a bit envious of her, but on the whole that's probably a fair conclusion. People seem to fear her, hate her, or both."

"I like her more already," Sirius said softly to himself.

"The Zabini import/export business isn't large, but it does reasonably well," Hydrus said. "There are rumors about having less than savory connections back in Italy, in both business and family matters. Unfortunately no one in the Black family married into any important Italian families, so there are no portraits there that we can call on for information."

"So we don't know anything solid about her family or business connections in Italy," Sirius concluded, "but there are rumors that make her look bad. And we know how reliable all the _other_ rumors about her are."

"True, but the rumors I'm talking about are not the wild sort," Hydrus pointed out. "They aren't repeated very freely or loudly. They strike me as... more likely based on fact."

Sirius raised one eyebrow at that. "Right — that's worth keeping in mind..."

* * *

When Alessandra Zabini once again opened the door to the room she'd rented that day, she expected to find two or three young witches whom she needed to talk to. What she found instead was a group of ten witches and two wizards, all giving her suspicious looks. She couldn't help but raise one eyebrow in curiosity as she observed, "I only rented a small room. I'm not sure there is space for all of you."

"Gabrielle and Hannah are here to guard the door," Jasmine said. "Ginny and Ron can go back downstairs to keep an eye on what's happening there. I'm sure the rest of us will fit." She watched as two left, two moved to either side of the door, and the rest entered, taking up positions around the room.

When Alessandra sat down in the same chair she'd used that morning, she looked around at all the faces and realized that this was not likely to go as well as her talk with Blaise had. First things first, though. "When I was younger and still living in Italy," she began, "quite a few different wizards thought they could intimidate me into doing what they wanted. They learned, much to their regret, that I am not so easily cowed. The first to come anywhere close to truly intimidating me were the veela who surprised me when I arrived in Calais. You and your friends, Miss Potter, do not intimidate me."

"We're not here to intimidate you," Daphne said quickly. "We're here to make sure you know that Jasmine isn't alone. We all support her — her and Hermione — completely."

"If we had wanted to try to intimidate you," Hermione added, "we'd have made a point of bringing in Gabrielle at least, if not Fleur as well."

Alessandra thought about that, then said, "Your shieldmaidens?" When the girls both nodded, she continued, "Very well, I withdraw my comment, and I apologize for starting our meeting so negatively. I did not expect to be confronted by such a large group."

"You're the first to find out about all of this without our intending it," Jasmine said. "You're a stranger to us, and while I know you're under oath, we're still not sure about being able to trust you."

Alessandra smiled now for the first time since the group arrived. "You're quite right to be careful, and I'm sure that there is nothing I can say or do right now to completely change your mind. Instead, I'd like to explain what I intend to _start_ doing, assuming it meets with your approval, and thereby earn your trust."

"OK," Jasmine responded, "what is it that you want to do?"

"I assume you know that there are witches and wizards in Britain who try to hold on to the old ways, despite Ministry condemnation," Alessandra explained. "Our numbers are small and we are spread widely in isolated groups. My own only has five to ten individuals who participate, depending on the time of year. None of us are extremely powerful, otherwise we'd have managed to change attitudes towards the old ways already. We do, however, have some influence — political, social, and economic."

"You're trying to build a movement," Daphne interjected. "A movement to bring back the old ways."

Alessandra nodded. "That's been the general idea, though we aren't organized enough to call ourselves a movement yet. It's more a common agreement that we'd all like to see the old ways respected again, and this won't happen without the influence that we've been slowly collecting. Right now, though, I think that our goals would be better served by working with you."

"What do you propose?" Hermione asked.

"At the moment, it seems to me that one of your biggest problems is the smear campaign which the Ministry is waging against the two of you, no?" Alessandra asked. Everyone nodded in agreement. "That campaign has powerful backers — far too powerful for us to oppose directly. However, we can use our influence to begin countering it among the people — in private conversations, in the shops, that sort of thing. We won't be able to make any quick changes, and the articles from this past week will make the job a lot harder, but we can start gradually shifting people's attitudes."

"What do you want in return?" Daphne asked, causing others to look at the Slytherin witch in surprise.

Alessandra smiled and said, "Quite right, Daphne. No one does anything for nothing. What I'm going to need is support from you. I told you that we aren't organized enough to be called a movement, and even if we were, I wouldn't be a leader who could dictate others' actions. What I'm going to have to do is put out a call _requesting_ others' participation in this on the promise that it's in their best interests. Most will probably believe me, but I'm also going to have to promise that they will get the full story later — otherwise, what reason will they have to stick their necks out, even a little bit?"

"So you're going to need us to speak to them," Jasmine said, understanding dawning. "You're going to need us to explain how we'll be able to fulfill the promises you'll be making."

"What I'm going to need is for **you** to speak to them, Miss Potter," Alessandra corrected her. "Miss Granger, too, perhaps, though I'll tell you now that many followers of the old ways tend to be suspicious of muggleborn." When the students bristled, she hastily went on, "They aren't blood purists! Please, don't misunderstand me, but many fear that the ideas which muggleborn bring to us from the muggle world are contrary to the old ways. Right now we only have one regularly participating muggleborn in our group, and it's mainly because of her husband that she's so accepted."

"Maybe they'll change their minds when they find out what we're doing?" Hermione suggested, clearly trying to hold back her annoyance.

"One can hope," Alessandra said cautiously, "but that sort of change won't happen fast. Regardless, Miss Potter will need to talk to these people and convince them that their desire to see the old ways be widely respected again has a better chance of being realized if they work with her than if they continue with their current strategy."

Jasmine nodded. "I can understand that, and I'll agree to it, at least provisionally; but I don't think I'll be able to do anything until the summer. Not only will I have more time and freedom, but by then there will be a couple of changes in my life that may prove helpful."

"Oh?" Alessandra asked.

"Well..." Jasmine said slowly, looking around at the others. "I hadn't intended to say anything for a bit, but my godfather Sirius will be formally adopting me into the Black family. Officially my name will be Jasmine Dorea Potter-Black, though I'll stick with Potter usually."

"So you'll have the Black name behind you?" Alessandra asked. "Does your godfather know about your... activities?"

"Absolutely," Jasmine said firmly.

"That's interesting," Alessandra responded with a thoughtful expression. "The Black family may not be as powerful or influential as it once was, but the name still commands respect. If he knows about and supports what you are doing, then that will definitely be a great boon to our goals."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything about this to anyone," Jasmine said. "Not yet, at least. Not until it's been formally announced."

"That is not a problem," Alessandra assured her. "Simply knowing that it is coming will help me, and it will take time to contact everyone. It will take even more time for the others to decide what to do, then to start doing it. There's no rush."

They all talked for another hour, and since Alessandra was already under oath, the young witches were willing to discuss their own experiences of the rituals. The most interesting bit of new information to her was how the rituals appeared to be enhancing them physically, mentally, and magically. It confirmed her belief that they had been changing and reinforced her decision to warn Blaise. She could not, however, deny that it also greatly increased the desire she already felt to participate in at least one of their rituals, no matter how much they differed from her own familial traditions.

Once they had all left, she reflected on what had been said... and even more on what had not been said. She knew that they were keeping some significant secrets above and beyond what the veela had been willing to tell her, but she wasn't sure what they might be. She just hoped that she'd be able to earn enough trust for them to tell her eventually. She was sure that despite her warning, Blaise would almost certainly become even closer to this group. She would not be able to support and protect him unless she was as much of an insider as he was.

And nothing mattered more to her than her _bambino_. Nothing.


	40. I Can See Clearly Now

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Blindness" by AngelaStarCat. Voldemort's attack leaves Harry not just with a scar on his forehead, but blind as well, a condition which prevents him from being accepted into Hogwarts despite still being magical. Harry, though, has never allowed his condition to hold him back. He never let it prevent him from excelling in his studies in muggle schools, and he won't let it hold him back in learning magic, either.

* * *

 **Chapter 40 - I Can See Clearly Now**

 **Sunday, February 13, 1996, Evening.**

It was a sign of how far Luna had come over the course of her fourth year that she was willing to have her birthday party in the Ravenclaw common room. Though the crackdown on bullying had helped, there were still some housemates who didn't seem to like her very much; however, they had learned not to try to bully her — it had taken only a practical Defense lesson or two led by her and Padma in the common room for most of the rest of the house to realize that the strange, waifish blonde wasn't a pushover anymore.

And those who didn't manage to learn that way were given some one-on-one sessions which drove the lesson home.

These days, Ravenclaw Tower was a much safer place for her, so she invited her friends — which consisted primarily of the study group — to visit in the evening for a small birthday party. It couldn't be as large and long as Hermione's had been because Ravenclaws didn't like anything interfering with their study time (and also because no one was entirely sure if such a party violated the new restrictions imposed by the Chief Inquisitor).

Despite its more reserved nature, it was still a fun gathering — and Luna had the most fun of all because it had been a long time since she'd had anyone celebrate her birthday in such a way. With Tonks' help, Sirius had managed to visit muggle London without causing a riot, natural disaster, or international incident, and there they got a number of books for Jasmine and Hermione to give to Luna. Books on muggle zoology, muggle myths, muggle cryptozoology and more, all of which made Hermione worry that Luna wouldn't be able to (or wouldn't bother to) differentiate between science, myth, and pseudoscience. But Jasmine pointed out that muggle scientists were still discovering new species, so who was to say that magical researchers like the Lovegoods might not as well? And who was to say that there might not be clues in muggle myths or cryptozoology?

Hermione wasn't entirely convinced, but she agreed to not make a fuss. Instead, she borrowed one of Luna's books on interesting animals, finding some fascinating information about insects that she thought might be useful for her and Jasmine.

Their other friends got Luna an assortment of sweets, quills and other school supplies, and several things that she could use while on her camping trips with her father. Luna wasn't the only person to get gifts, though: Lavender used the occasion to present Hannah and Tracey with replacements of things they had lost when their homes burned down. Some of it was new and some of it was used, but all of it had been donated by students from all four houses at Hogwarts.

* * *

 **Monday, February 14, 1996, Morning.**

While Hermione read a letter from her parents which Fleur had just dropped off at their table, Jasmine tried to keep an eye on Ron and Lavender as she ate. She was coming to the conclusion that the relationship between her friend and her dormmate hadn't been quite as good lately as it was when they had first started dating. She wasn't entirely sure, though, because there was no one thing that she could put her finger on — they continued to spend time together, continued to snog each other inappropriately, continued to smile, contin—

 _That's it_ , Jasmine realized. _Ron is still smiling, but the smiles aren't quite reaching his eyes. Regardless of the problems we've had, I know him well enough to recognize that! The question is, is this still due to his dad, or something else? I'm going to have to talk to Hermione..._

Before she could say anything, though, she saw the expression on Hermione's face. "What's wrong?" she asked, a stab of worry jolting through her. "Are your parents OK?"

"Oh, they're fine. But this is their reply to the letter I sent them after the attack."

"Oh!" Jasmine winced. "Right, OK, so... I guess they aren't happy?"

"That's putting it mildly," Hermione said morosely. "It's bad enough when I get attacked when I'm minding my own business, but actually leaving a safe location in order to intervene in an attack is another matter altogether, as far as they're concerned. I think it's only because of what we told them over the hols that they aren't clamoring to remove me from Britain entirely." Jasmine stiffened, and Hermione quickly added, "Don't worry, they aren't seriously talking about anything like that — they know better now. My point is, that's how upset they are. The fact that this may be unavoidable in the long run, and that they can't do anything to help or protect me, is just making it worse for them."

Jasmine subsided and considered the problem. "I can understand that. I'd feel the same way, if I were in their shoes. Maybe we should start thinking of ways they can help? Even if they can't do much, wouldn't being able to contribute make them feel more involved and less worried?"

"Oh, that's a great idea, Jas!" Hermione exclaimed, brightening visibly; but then she sagged a little and added, "Yet how can they help me from so far away? What can they as muggles do to help with a magical civil war?"

"Hermione," Jasmine said under her breath, "fighting Voldemort isn't the only thing we're involved with. It isn't even the biggest thing! Some of the stuff we're doing will end up affecting the muggle world in the long run, too. So isn't there something they can do on that side of things?"

Hermione's eyes lit up at that suggestion, and suddenly she could see at least one area where her parents could get involved — and maybe even make a real difference.

* * *

 **Monday, February 14, 1996, Evening.**

Because Valentine's Day fell on a regular weekday, none of the couples in Hogwarts found it easy to celebrate the way they wanted to — and the few truly secluded places that existed in the castle were quickly occupied by those who were desperate for even a few minutes of privacy. Not wanting to risk discovery, Jasmine and Hermione didn't bother to try for the usual spots, and even the Room of Requirement was in use when they tried to access it.

Luckily for them, they were able to make use of a location that would be unavailable to almost any other couple in the castle: one of their dorm beds, behind silenced and sealed curtains. So for Jasmine and Hermione, at least, it was a very quiet and subdued Valentine's Day which consisted mostly of a few discreet brushes of their hands, a few lingering looks, and a very long period of privacy once they went to bed.

* * *

 **Tuesday, February 15, 1996, Evening.**

"So, how'd it go?" Tonks asked as she poured herself a cup of tea in the kitchen.

"How'd what go?" Sirius replied.

Tonks rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Your date, silly. You remember — lunch with the Italian goddess? Surely you didn't forget and leave her hanging?"

"No, no, I went," Sirius assured her. "It's just... complicated."

"Well, feel free to unload onto dear old Tonks," she said, morphing her face into that of a kindly old grandmother and changing her voice so that it sounded like that of a very elderly woman. "I'm always available to lend an ear, along with sage advice drawn from my many, many years of experience." As she said that, she made the ear closest to Sirius grow to two or three times its normal size.

Sirius snorted at her antics. "Alright, alright! I found it enjoyable, OK? She has very refined mannerisms, but at the same time she isn't pompous. She's beautiful and knows it, but she doesn't act conceited or entitled. She's clearly intelligent and knows a lot, but doesn't flaunt that, either."

"Keep that up and I'll want to date her myself," Tonks said jokingly. "Surely there are some flaws buried somewhere in there?"

"I'm sure there are," Sirius agreed, "though I haven't found them yet. Of course, anyone who looks too good to be true probably is, so I'm keeping my eyes open."

"But nothing specific is causing you to worry yet?" Tonks asked.

"No... well, yes, one thing. Sort of," Sirius said hesitantly. "She asked me a lot of questions about Jasmine. No, not like that — nothing that made me think she was a threat and looking for intelligence. That's what I thought at first, too, but after a bit I realized that her questions were more about my relationship with Jasmine than Jasmine herself."

"Like what?" Tonks asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Well... things like how she's adapting to having a father figure in her life now, how I'm handling _being_ a father figure, how well we get along - that sort of thing," Sirius explained.

Tonks smirked knowingly. "How come you didn't take her out on Valentine's Day, anyway?"

"I didn't want to invest the date with too many heavy expectations," Sirius said. "And I think she agreed. I wanted something simple and casual. That way if we didn't hit it off, it wouldn't be a problem to simply not arrange for a second date."

"And will there be one?" Tonks asked.

"Yep. We agreed that we enjoyed the first enough to have another, but we didn't set a specific time. She said she's coming into a busy season for her import/export business and can't commit to anything very readily right now. We're going to play it by ear and try for some time in the next couple of weeks."

"Sounds like a success, then," Tonks concluded.

Sirius nodded in agreement. "So, how's your case coming along?" he asked, changing the subject.

Tonks shrugged. "I can't say much, as you know, but I guess I can say that it's progressing. It's more complicated than I thought, but it is interesting. Thanks, by the way, for letting me use that knife. I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't have gotten anywhere at all by now without it."

"Not a problem," Sirius responded. "You're family now... well, you always were, as far as I was concerned, but it's more official now, too, which means you can call on me for that sort of help anytime." They were quiet for a bit, then Sirius continued in a softer voice, "I'm sorry, by the way, that Remus had to leave so soon. I know you were hoping to have a chance to talk to him yesterday."

Tonks' hair quickly cycled through several different colors as her eyes widened in surprise. "What? How? When?"

Sirius smiled a little sadly. "I saw how you were looking at him. I also noticed you looking at the calendar a couple of times, and I made an educated guess about the date."

Tonks slumped a bit in her chair. "I've tried to get his attention subtly a few times, but he never noticed. I thought that maybe, given the date, I could get away with something more direct."

"Direct fits you better anyway," Sirius observed, and she straightened a bit at hearing that. "I can promise you, though, that he noticed — he's more observant than I am. Unfortunately, I think if you do manage to get him to try something with you, it will be a lot of work."

"What do you mean?" Tonks asked, frowning.

Sirius toyed with his teacup, trying to find the right words. "You have to understand, he carries around a lot of guilt and self-loathing over being a werewolf. You won't be able to get very far with him without remembering that. And no matter how much he likes or respects you, he'll never be able to give you what you're looking for unless he can accept that he's a good and decent person himself. You and I might think it's obvious that he's a good man, but in all the years I've known him, I don't think he's ever really believed it."

"Wow... I... I never thought about it in those terms before," Tonks said slowly.

Sirius shrugged. "Remus is one of my best friends. Has been for most of my life, in fact. He's smart, talented, strong, and lots of other great things. But I can't deny that he has flaws, and the biggest is his self-loathing. It holds him back in a lot of ways. I also suspect that you can't get into such a relationship expecting to be able to fix a person — I mean, I've been trying for years. Er, not that I've been wanting to date him," Sirius amended hastily, and Tonks smiled. "Just that he's been pretty stubborn on this point, and I've never made much headway. Maybe you can do better. If you're determined, though, I suggest you help him fix himself first, _then_ pursue a relationship if you're still interested."

When Tonks nodded thoughtfully, he added, "And I promise that's the last unsolicited relationship advice I'll inflict on you."

"Not that it's bad advice, but I have to ask: how did a guy who's been in prison for the last decade and a half get to know so much about relationships?" Tonks wondered.

"I know so much about _Remus_ ," Sirius corrected. "Besides, I recently learned that I need to be a bit more accepting of how others handle their relationships. And no, I won't give you any details - suffice it to say that I'm trying to be less judgmental than I might have been in the past." He gave her a speculative look as she finished off her now-cool drink, then he mused, "Of course, I could be wrong about all this... maybe he just needs to get laid."

Tonks spewed her tea all over the table.

* * *

 **Wednesday, February 16, 1996, Afternoon.**

The twins came through again by successfully smuggling a large quantity of the February edition of _The Quibbler_ into the castle, though this time they were far more circumspect in delivering the goods. They were among the first to learn not only of Percy's likely role in what was being printed in the _Daily Prophet_ — something they took rather personally — but also about the possibility of a spy among the lions.

Jasmine and Hermione weren't sure which of those two revelations angered the twins more. They were tempted to feel sorry for whomever the spy was because they were the only one within the twins' grasp, and that meant that they would have to bear the brunt of their anger on both matters. Whoever they were, their days were numbered.

"I kinda wish we could have included some sort of rebuttal to the accusations being made against us," Jasmine lamented as she and Hermione looked at the latest issue behind Jasmine's bed curtains.

"I understand the feeling," Hermione said, "but this is actually better. We wouldn't win if we went toe-to-toe with the Ministry and their propaganda rag. In the long run, people would end up believing the loudest voice."

"Which is the Ministry."

"Right," Hermione confirmed. "It will be more effective to undermine confidence and trust in the Ministry. If we can achieve that, people won't believe what the _Daily Prophet_ publishes. This article explaining the truth about the attacks at the end of hols will go a long way towards that."

"But isn't that what the Ministry is doing to me?" Jasmine asked, confused. "Undermining people's confidence in me?"

"Yes, that's true," Hermione conceded. "But there's a difference. Hardly anyone has ever seen you do anything that might be called 'dark,' so it's an accusation that doesn't have a lot of sticking power. People may eventually believe it, but only after it's repeated often enough. This article about how badly the Ministry was doing against Voldemort in the 70s is something most people can relate to — they were there and saw it. And this other article about how ill-prepared the Ministry is now to fight dark wizards is believable — Fudge's decisions are a matter of public record and have long been known."

* * *

 **Friday, February 18, 1996. Morning.**

"I'm so, so sorry, Parvi," Padma whispered through her tears as she hugged her twin sister in the castle entrance way.

"Stop that," Parvati chided her. "You didn't do anything wrong. If anything, you helped me survive by teaching me and Lav how to fight."

"But... but... if I hadn't..." Padma tried to argue.

"No," Parvati said sternly as she drew back a bit so she could look her sister in the eye. "I don't want to hear any more of that, understand? You're not at fault — the ones who attacked us are. If you want to make it up to me, be sure you help take those animals down, OK?"

Padma nodded silently as she wiped at her eyes.

"Parvati!" came Lavender's voice from above them. Looking up, Parvati could see several Gryffindor witches coming down the staircase for breakfast.

"Lav!" she called back, holding out one arm to invite her best friend into the hug she was already sharing with her sister. Soon she was surrounded by quite a few witches from several houses, all of whom were thrilled to see that she had returned.

"Are you well now?" Lavender asked. "Completely better?"

Parvati shook her head. "I'm still a bit tender, and I've got a bunch of potions that I'll have to take every day for the next month. They don't know for sure yet if there was any permanent damage, but they are hopeful."

"C'mon," Susan said, "Let's get you something to eat."

Once they were all sitting together in the Great Hall, they proceeded to fill Parvati in on everything that had been happening in the castle while she was gone. She already knew some of it because her friends and sister had sent her regular letters, but there was always so much more that couldn't easily be conveyed in written form.

It was difficult, that first day back, but she was excited and happy to finally be at Hogwarts again.

* * *

 **Friday, February 18, 1996. Night.**

They couldn't get away with inviting the entire study group again, but they did make a point of bringing in Padma. With the beds pushed together, there was plenty of room for her, her sister, Lavender, Ginny, Jasmine, and Hermione to snuggle in together as the entire group had done their first night back in January. The next morning, Parvati agreed that it was the best night's sleep she could remember.

It was also the first night in over a month that she hadn't awakened from any nightmares.

* * *

 **Saturday, February 19, 1996, Afternoon.**

It was Professor Flitwick's turn to instruct them, which he did in the Room of Requirement so as not to risk Umbridge learning that they weren't in the castle. This worked out well enough because that week's lessons would be on a new set of spells that didn't require a lot of room: medical spells.

"It's a trick used by some duelists — though generally the nastiest ones," Flitwick explained. "Since you'll be fighting for your lives rather than for points or prizes, I don't have a problem with teaching them to you."

"Are these not dark, then, since they are medical in nature?" Hermione asked.

"It depends," Flitwick answered. "Some are intended as medical treatments and thus aren't dark, but they are useful in a fight because their effects aren't pleasant when used on someone who's not only healthy, but in the middle of doing something important or complicated. Examples of this include _Colus Evacuas_ and _Vomis_. However, these are generally low-power spells which are easily blocked. Useful if you can slip them in, but they are more distractions than anything else."

After practicing these spells for a few minutes on conjured pigs, then casting several strong air freshening charms, they moved on. "Now we come to some spells that, while not dark, are still unpleasant because they cause actual medical conditions, at least for a little while. They will also cause pain, but don't require you to actually visualize the pain. As usual, the effect of the spells will be stronger if you can do so, but so long as you can accurately visualize the condition, you'll be able to cast successfully. That will require a short course in anatomy."

Flitwick then proceeded to teach them about how the kidneys, the gall bladder, and joints functioned in order to help them understand how to cast _Nephrolithiasis Infligo_ to cause kidney stones, _Cholelithiasis Infligo_ to cause gallstones, and _Inflammatio Articulus_ to cause arthritis. "As I said before," he explained, "none of these should last very long, but more than long enough for the purpose of a fight — at least a day or two if you cast them. What makes them especially nasty is that they cannot be countered by anything other than spells used by healers to treat these conditions."

"And I'm guessing that these spells aren't common knowledge?" Hermione asked.

"Exactly," Flitwick said. "Aside from duelists who have to worry about getting hit with such things, only healers are likely to even be aware of them, much less know them. I'll teach them to you next so you at least have the option of helping someone incapacitated by one of these spells."

Once the girls were proficient, Flitwick had the room create a table with chairs which he invited them to sit in. "This next part won't require any spellcasting," he explained. "I've been told that you two might be interested in learning a bit more about the history and culture of goblins — something beyond what is taught by that ghost in the History of Magic classes?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said eagerly. "Anything at all would be helpful."

"As I said to Hermione over the summer," Jasmine noted, "I'd like to avoid unnecessarily offending anyone at Gringotts. I mean, they do have all my money."

Flitwick chuckled. "It's amazing how many witches and wizards don't seem to care about offending the very beings who are charged with holding and protecting all their gold. There's far too much to teach you over the course of a few Saturdays' worth of lessons, and frankly most of it will never matter much to you anyway. I can, however, give you an overview of goblin history and customs. That should help you understand some of the whys and wherefores of goblin behavior."

* * *

 **Saturday, February 19, 1996, Evening.**

Albus Dumbledore read over the latest issue of the _Quibbler_ and wondered if Xenophilius had finally gone too far for the Ministry to tolerate. Quite aside from his disparaging articles about the Ministry's failures in the 1970s and how Fudge had made things even worse — articles that were all completely true, as far as Dumbledore could tell — there was also one on how "traditions" in wizarding society had changed, including a review of the many old practices that had been condemned as dark by various Ministry bureaucrats.

As far as he knew, that piece was all true as well, but it was the sort of information he'd prefer not be spread too widely. There were good reasons why many, if not most, of those old traditions had been suppressed. The fact that Xeno and his anonymous author knew about them was troubling enough; the fact that they knew enough to do such a good job at explaining them and making them attractive was far, far worse.

 _There seems to be little doubt now that the author of these articles on traditional practices is at least connected with whatever rituals have been destroying Tom's horcruxes_ , Dumbledore concluded. _The coincidences here are just too great to dismiss. The question is, how will I ever find the author or authors? All of my research into his friends and associates has turned up nothing of value, and it's not as if they're going to just waltz into my office and announce themselves._

Just then the gargoyle alerted him to the presence of Miss Potter and Miss Granger, both there for their appointment to review another pensieve memory of Tom Riddle. This time he showed them one of his own memories: interviewing Tom Riddle for the vacant post of Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was, of course, turned down, and despite his superficially gracious reaction, it was clear to everyone just how angry he really was.

"Is that when he cursed the Defense position?" Hermione wondered.

"Most likely, though I cannot prove it," Dumbledore said. "I can't even prove that the position is cursed, except by reference to how no one has stayed longer than a year."

"Do you think he really wanted to teach?" Jasmine asked.

"He was a brilliant student, and I think he could have made a brilliant teacher," Dumbledore admitted. "Unfortunately, I'm sure that that's not all he wanted to do. I expect that he hoped to teach actual Dark Arts — and even recruit from among the students."

After some more discussion about what Tom was like back then, Dumbledore proceeded to tell them about having tracked down another horcrux. "The location was one that should be familiar to you — the old shack that the Gaunt family lived in. As much as I'd like to relate to you a thrilling tale of how I got around Tom's protections, the truth is much more prosaic. When I arrived, there was nothing left of it — just a large scorch mark in the dirt and an even larger area of ground where nothing will grow."

"What happened?" Jasmine asked.

"There was nothing in the vicinity which provided any clues, so I travelled down to the local village to inquire," Dumbledore explained. "Apparently there was an explosion and fire. When the villagers arrived on the scene, there was nothing left, and none of them had any idea what had happened."

"How long ago was that?" Hermione asked.

"That was perhaps the most curious part of my little adventure," Dumbledore replied. "According to the villagers, the explosion occurred on the night of Halloween — the most recent Halloween, in fact."

Jasmine and Hermione shot each other a quick, intense look which Dumbledore immediately picked up on. "Does that day mean anything to you?" he asked.

"Uh..." Jasmine floundered.

"Obviously, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione broke in smoothly. Both he and Jasmine now looked at her in curiosity. "It's the day Jasmine's parents were murdered, and she almost was herself. It's something that depresses her every year, especially when so many people in the wizarding world treat it like a joyful feast instead of stopping to remember those who were lost."

Jasmine was quick to agree. "Exactly! Do you think that it was just a coincidence?"

Dumbledore eyed the two witches, not at all convinced that there wasn't more to the date for them, but also unable to deny that it was important to Miss Potter for exactly the stated reasons. "Perhaps, perhaps not," he said slowly. After a moment, he tried baiting his hook with a bit more information. "Though I'm inclined to doubt it, since that wasn't the only horcrux to explode on that night."

"Oh?" the two witches said in unison, and Dumbledore couldn't tell if their clear interest was anything more than the obvious: a natural desire to know more about important progress in the project to render Tom Riddle mortal again.

"Yes," he continued. "One other also exploded that night, and now that I know that a second did as well, I am forced to wonder if there were even more. Unfortunately, proving it would be difficult."

"Where was the other one?" Jasmine asked.

Dumbledore wasn't sure if he wanted to answer, but before he could decide Hermione piped up to say, "Hogwarts! It was here in Hogwarts, wasn't it? That was what injured you! I remember you were absent from meals for quite a while after Halloween."

Dumbledore smiled, despite being a little taken aback at how quickly she'd put that all together. "Yes indeed, Miss Granger. I'd hardly gotten a chance to even think about studying it — I didn't even have a chance to cast any spells to verify that it was a horcrux — before it started screaming and exploded. I was fortunate that I was able to get it as far away from me as I did, otherwise my injuries would have been much worse."

"I wonder why he'd take such a risk, putting one in Hogwarts," Hermione said. "I mean, having it so close to you was dangerous for him."

"Not so dangerous after all," Dumbledore disagreed. "It was here for many, many years without being discovered."

"And I'll bet he felt more at home here than elsewhere, right?" Jasmine said. "I know I felt like this was my first real home. If he was as attached to the castle as I've been, then it kind of makes sense that he'd want to store something so important here, even if it was a risk."

Dumbledore nodded. "All very good points, Miss Potter, and I think you are right on all of them. Those are also important insights into Tom's character. Despite his refusal to allow anyone to get close to him, there is still a strong element of sentimentality in him, and this is how it manifests. Remembering this may help us identify the locations of any other horcruxes, whether they are still in one piece or not."

* * *

Once the two witches had left, Dumbledore remained at his desk, deep in contemplation as he pondered new information and reconsidered previous conclusions in the light of what he'd just seen. _I attributed their growth in power to improved skill and perhaps some late development_ , he considered, _and dismissed the idea that it had been due to any dark rituals... but what if they performed some other kind of rituals which have affected them?_

 _And how would they know about such rituals?_ he wondered. _They have become friends with Lovegood's daughter. In fact, I think their friendship started in the second term of their fourth year, around when I started noticing changes in them — and in Miss Potter especially. The changes in her attitudes might be attributable to such rituals, too, I suppose._

 _And the horcruxes? It might have been due to the soul fragment that's in Miss Potter's scar — or was in it, I should say. That would potentially allow them to affect the horcruxes before Miss Potter and Miss Granger even knew about them. It might even explain what Severus reported happening to Tom... and stopped happening recently, too, just like Miss Potter's scar recently healed._

 _It all fits!_ he concluded. _There's just one problem... I have no evidence that they even know about such rituals, much less have been participating in any. And if they are, I would need to find some way to demonstrate a connection between them and the horcruxes. Well, if my reasoning is sound, that last bit shouldn't be too hard. First things first, and that's to find out what they know._

* * *

 **Monday, February 21, 1996, Late Afternoon.**

"Fleur?" Hermione asked hesitantly once she and Jasmine were the only ones left in the Defense classroom.

"Yes?" the French professor responded while Jasmine silenced and sealed the door.

"We, well... we'd like to ask a favor, I guess," Hermione said. "Would it be possible, I mean, if it's not too much trouble, to, uh, meet with your mother and Adrienne?"

"About what?" Fleur asked, now all business. "Ze next ritual will take place on ze twentieth of next month. Is zat not soon enough?"

"Sooner would be better," Hermione admitted. "It's... it's a difficult subject. We'd like you to be there, too, but it has to be kept as secret as possible."

"It's about Voldemort," Jasmine said. "Him, souls, and the bond between me and Hermione."

Fleur's eyes narrowed. "When and where?" she asked.

"We don't want to put them out, if they—"

Fleur held up a hand to stop her. "Non, it does not matter. If it is zat important, zen zey will come. Just tell me when and where."

"Um, well, the next Hogsmeade weekend is the eleventh," Hermione said. "Maybe we could meet them in the Shrieking Shack?"

"You and Gabrielle, too, of course," Jasmine added.

"Bon, I will send word," Fleur said.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall exited the Forbidden Forest confused, worried, and at a complete loss as to what to do. She looked around to see if anyone else was nearby, then walked down to Hogsmeade, where she ducked into an empty alley. A minute later, a completely nondescript-looking witch came back out of the alley, entered the Hog's Head, purchased a bottle of firewhiskey, and sat down at a table in a darkened corner where she could drink and think in peace.

 _Sweet Merlin_ , Tonks thought to herself, _what have I gotten myself into?_

For the past week she had been tracing patterns of magical energy using obscure spells she'd found in the Black family library. Eventually, she'd determined that there had indeed probably been an incident near Hogwarts, and moreover that it had probably originated in or near the Forbidden Forest. Now that she'd gone through Auror academy, the Forbidden Forest wasn't nearly as intimidating as it had been when she was a student — but it was still intimidating enough, especially since it seemed that she would have to go in there alone, without backup.

That was why she hit on the idea of going in while disguised as Professor McGonagall. She figured that anything smart enough to recognize her wouldn't adopt an "attack first, ask questions after lunch" approach if she looked like a Hogwarts professor. It was risky, but she decided it was worth it.

She had no idea that using that particular disguise would get her a massive amount of intelligence that she never would have gotten otherwise... which wasn't half as surprising as the fact that her stern Transfiguration professor was apparently neck-deep in what she was investigating!

 _Sweet Merlin_ , Tonks thought to herself once again as she downed her third drink and thought back to how she'd only been in the forest for a few minutes, marvelling at how wonderful everything looked, before she was approached by a centaur and immediately assumed that her reconnaissance expedition was already at an end...

"Can I help you?" the centaur had asked. Almost seven feet tall at the shoulder and with white speckles on his sides, he certainly wasn't behaving like any centaur she'd ever heard about.

"Uh, I was, uh... just checking to see how everything here is doing," McGonagall replied somewhat vaguely, trying hard not to let on how shocked she was at being treated so courteously.

"Everything continues to grow spectacularly," the centaur said, "but the best growth continues to be around the ritual circle. Would you like me to escort you there?"

"The circle? Oh, yes, the circle," she stammered. "Yes, please, I'd like to see it."

As they started walking, McGonagall's eyes kept being drawn away from the amazing sight of the forest and to the centaur... a centaur who looked to be rather bigger and stronger than average. _Quite a bit bigger,_ she thought with a gulp. After a few minutes, she finally broke down and said, "I hope you don't take offense, because I can assure you that none is intended, but you seem... larger than I expected."

A deep rumbling issued from somewhere in the centaur's chest, and it was a moment before McGonagall realized with astonishment that he was actually _chuckling_. "Thank you! Even though I stopped growing not long after the last ritual was performed here, I myself am still impressed at how much stronger and faster I am than I used to be. And I'm not even the most improved out of the entire herd!"

"The... the entire herd, then?" she asked, not quite sure how to react to that.

"Indeed, we are all very grateful for what you and the others have done, both for the forest and for us personally," the centaur answered. Before she could fully process that, they arrived at a clearing and the centaur said, "Here we are. It's just as you left it last. We would have made every effort to preserve it, in the hope that you would return to use it, but we haven't had to do anything — it seems to be preserving itself. Almost as if it wishes to be used by you again?"

She was barely listening by that point — only enough to recognize how often the centaur kept reinforcing the message that Minerva McGonagall had been a part of what had happened here. Her real focus was on just how lush and magical the growth around the clearing was. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen — heck, it was unlike anything she'd ever even _heard_ of!

As she walked around, casting her recently-learned detection spells, she was amazed at the amount of magic infusing the site. She was frankly surprised that the place wasn't literally glowing, and she was sure that far more than a single ritual had been performed at this location. Was her old professor part of some secret cult? She hadn't detected anything dark at any of the sites, so she was sure that it couldn't have anything to do with Voldemort, but still... what had she gotten involved in?

"Is everything to your satisfaction?" the centaur asked after she had been standing still for some time, gazing around and simply reveling in the feel of the place.

"Uh, yeah, sure," McGonagall said distantly. Abruptly she realized what she had said and cleared her throat, then tried again. "Yes, indeed - it's actually far better than I could have expected."

"Excellent! I'll be sure to pass your approval along to the herd leaders," he said. "It's important to us that you are happy with the site. As I said, we do hope that you and your students will return to perform more rituals in the future."

McGonagall didn't hear a single thing he said after that because she was completely fixated on his use of the word "students." In fact, it wasn't until she was sitting in the Hog's Head, wearing another face, that her brain managed to start working properly again.

 _Students?_ she thought as she took another drink. _Did he mean, like, adult apprentices or... actual Hogwarts students? Performing and participating in massively powerful magical rituals in the Forbidden Forest! Under the direction of a Hogwarts professor! And not just the Forbidden Forest... she must be smuggling them out of the castle to get them to the other sites around Britain!_

 _If I don't do anything_ , she considered, _then I won't be doing my job. If I take this to Scrimgeour, then I might be able to spin a tale without mentioning some of the spells I've used... but who knows what I'll be condemning McGonagall to? I just don't know what to do. Merlin's bollocks, I wish I could talk to Sirius about this..._

* * *

 **Sunday, February 27, 1996, Afternoon.**

The first thing Minerva McGonagall did once she had sat down with Jasmine and Hermione for tea was thank them for giving her the opportunity to talk with the portrait of Elladora Black. "I can't begin to express my gratitude," Minerva said. "I've so often wished that I could have spoken, even once, with the author of that book — and for many reasons, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Yes, I can — I've felt the same way," Hermione said.

"It was also... helpful, talking to someone like her about what I've been through," Minerva went on. "Surprisingly so, actually."

"She's done a lot of good for Sirius," Jasmine said. "He was having a lot of trouble coping with having spent more than a decade with the Dementors. The fact that he's doing so well now is due in large part to the work Elladora has done with him. And the two of us have benefited from talking with her, too."

Minerva nodded. "I can well believe that, especially now."

"You do know that you're welcome to keep visiting her, right?" Hermione said. "It doesn't need to be a one-time thing."

Minerva smiled and said, "Thank you. I think I might."

During a lull in the conversation, an elf popped in to give Minerva an envelope, saying that a letter had come in via muggle post for her. She was about to put the letter aside when she saw something on the envelope and said, "Oh my, this is from my muggle friend — the one who taught Dobby and Winky how to harvest the basilisk. Maybe I should open it now."

After skimming the message, she raised one eyebrow. "He wants me to thank you on his behalf for the three basilisk-hide tunics you sent. He says, and I quote, 'On a scale of one to ten, they're awesome!'" She looked up at the two witches and said, "I assume that's a good thing?"

"I'd say so," Jasmine said with a smile.

Minerva looked down again and kept reading. "Before I always thought that England was just the land of tweed, scones, and warm beer. Now I'm upgrading you to the land of skin-tight leather, funky little elves, and really useful monsters." She looked back up at the sniggering witches and commented, "I suppose we should feel flattered?"

She looked back down and after a moment said, "Now this just doesn't make any sense. He writes, 'Had I known that the skin of a giant magical snake made such good armor, I would have looked at my old town's former mayor very, very differently.' Is that an American thing? I can't tell."

"Hmmm," she said after reading a bit further. "Apparently one of the girls he gave a tunic to sends her thanks for 'the awesome little leather dress' and asks 'where can we get matching boots?'" Minerva just shook her head. "I really don't understand Americans."

* * *

 **Sunday, February 27, 1996, Evening.**

Cornelius Fudge downed another shot of firewhiskey before he started reviewing his spies' reports once again. The newspaper articles about the use of dark magic by Potter and Geezer had produced some increased animosity towards them, but not nearly enough — certainly not as much as his advisors had assured him it would. He had a burning suspicion that there were traitors in his administration, but he wasn't sure why he thought that or who they might be.

Regardless, more articles would be published, as had always been the plan, but it was clear that even more would be needed. More, and more drastic measures, he was sure of it.

 _But what?_ he wondered. _I could order Dolores to do something to them in the school, but she'd probably get caught, and then she'd implicate me. Weatherby already told me everything he knows. I could order their arrest, but the last time I tried that the situation spun out of control rather quickly. Those two witches have far too much unexpected support in the school for them to be taken very easily there._

 _That's it!_ he thought. _I need to get them out of the school — get them in a place where_ _ **I**_ _control the environment! But where... the Ministry, of course! But for what? I can't invite them to come in to be interviewed by the aurors — that would be too obvious. And Amelia would never play along. Sports? She plays Quidditch... or she did, until Dolores screwed that up. Not urgent enough, though. Misuse of Muggle... no, no, that's stupid._

Fudge continued to work through half the night, trying to find some way to lure those two witches out of the castle and into an environment where he could deal with them properly.


	41. Private Eyes

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Don't Look Back in Anger" by robst. Hermione has a temper, though in canon she usually kept it controlled. What if she didn't, though? After the Triwizard Tournament, she speaks out and tells Minister Fudge what she really thinks of his refusal to believe Harry about Voldemort's return — and how stupid it is of him to deny that despite the fact that _someone_ killed Cedric. Maybe she should have just kept her big mouth shut...

 **Final Countdown: 10!**

* * *

 **Chapter 41 - Private Eyes**

 **Wednesday, March 1, 1996, Night.**

"Jasmine, Hermione, can I ask you something?"

Hermione looked up from where she was getting out her clothes for the next day and saw that Lavender was looking at her with a nervous expression. "Sure, Lav, what's the matter?" she asked.

"It's... it's Ron," she said, after a brief hesitation. "Has he been acting differently lately? More distant?"

Hermione frowned and thought about that, then said, "No, I don't think so."

"We're still not quite as close as we were during the first three years," Jasmine added, "but I think we'd notice any big changes in his behavior."

Lavender sighed heavily. "Then he must be acting differently around me. Has he said anything about me? About breaking up with me?"

Hermione shot Jasmine a look and wondered what they should say. She didn't want to lie, but she also didn't want to get into the middle of someone else's relationship.

"He's never talked about you very much," Jasmine said. "I think he wanted to keep it private — something between the two of you."

Lavender smiled for the first time. "That's sweet of him."

Hermione nodded. "You're his first girlfriend, and I'm sure he's trying hard, but he's bound to make mistakes. Don't assume that he's fully conscious of what he's doing or what messages he may be sending. He's not the most emotionally self-aware boy I've ever met."

"Oh, that much I already know," Lavender said as she rolled her eyes. "I've made plenty of allowances for that. The recent distance, though, has been pretty consistent, and it's been going on for a couple of weeks at least. I keep pushing, but it's not helping."

"Maybe that's part of the problem?" Hermione suggested. "Ron can be pretty stubborn. Pushing a stubborn person too much will make things worse."

"There's also... well, you know, his father," Jasmine said. "He may not be dealing well with that."

Lavender looked thoughtful. "Alright, I'll try giving him some more space. Let's see if that gets a better reaction. Thanks!" With that, she returned to her own bed with a slight skip in her step.

* * *

 **Saturday, March 4, 1996, Evening.**

"Say, Sirius, didn't you once mention that Jasmine was getting extra instruction from Professor McGonagall?" Tonks asked, trying as hard as possible to keep her voice sounding casual and curious — but not too curious.

"Yep, that she is," Sirius answered. "She's been helping her a lot, in fact. It's my understanding that she's gotten quite close to her."

"Oh?" Tonks said, not sure if she should be happy or distressed to be learning this. "I've always remembered her as such a stern and forbidding teacher — not the sort that students could get close to. Certainly not while they were still students!"

Sirius chuckled. "Oh, your memory of her is correct. I have the same memories, and she hasn't changed a bit! No, she seems to have taken a shine to my goddaughter. And Hermione as well, as a matter of fact."

"I wonder how that happened?" Tonks asked. "Did McGonagall latch on to her as soon as she entered the castle, going on about how much she looks like Lily?"

"No, actually, they weren't always so close," Sirius said with a slight frown. "Now that you mention it, I think they only got close... last year sometime. I mean, during her fourth year. I'm not sure what caused it, but it was a later development."

"Maybe it was the tournament?" Tonks suggested. "That had to be stressful."

Sirius nodded. "That sounds likely. I should ask how and why things changed. I never gave it much thought — I was too happy to know that she was watching out for them."

"Maybe that will include teaching them some advanced magic," Tonks probed. "She _is_ one of the best, so learning from her would b a great opportunity."

Sirius' brow furrowed. "I think she might be, though I don't know the specifics. It might be both her and Flitwick, now that I think of it. I know that they are spending a lot of time doing extra study and training. They have to, what with Voldemort after them."

Tonks filed all of that information away, then deftly changed the subject. "So, did you have that second date with your Italian goddess yet?"

Sirius' eyes lit up, and he was more than happy to regale her with details of his dinner with Alessandra.

* * *

 **Monday, March 6, 1996, Evening.**

"Aren't you worried about the kids?" one of the most recent Death Eater recruits asked his trainer. "I mean, they aren't all blood traitors and mudbloods, are they?"

The trainer shrugged. "If we go at night, they won't be at too much risk. Besides, we have an insider who can ensure that those loyal to the Dark Lord will be safe. Don't let anyone else hear you expressing doubt like that, though. You won't last a day if you can't keep that sort of thing to yourself."

The recruit nodded but still looked troubled.

"I'm more worried about the defenses," another recent recruit said. "Even inside, there are dark, narrow corridors, shifting staircases, and other obstacles. If you practically grew up there, it might not seem daunting, but those of us who have been brought in from the continent regard it differently."

The trainer looked at the second recruit with a thoughtful expression. "That... is a good point. You're right: to some of us the place will seem normal, but the rest of you will have problems. Congratulations — you just got a promotion, and your first assignment will be to help me come up with ways to help get our forces ready."

Up on the wall, one of the portraits listened to the discussion with great interest.

* * *

 **Tuesday, March 7, 1996, Evening.**

"Things with Nott are getting worse," Daphne told the others once their study session was over.

"I've noticed that he's looking rather haggard at meal times," Hermione said. "At least, when he's at meals."

Tracey nodded. "He's missing more classes, too. He's sneaking off more and more, but we can't figure out where. He's too good at losing us."

"We need someone better at following others," Daphne lamented.

"Of course!" Jasmine said, brightening up. "Dobby! Winky!" Two house elves appeared with a pop, looking expectantly up at their mistress. "Yes, Missy Jazzy?" they asked.

"We've got a bit of a problem," Jasmine explained. "We're sure that Theodore Nott of Slytherin is up to something, but we don't know what. We think Voldemort personally gave him some sort of mission to accomplish here in Hogwarts."

Both elves shivered slightly at the mention of Voldemort, and Jasmine nodded in sympathy. "Yeah, whatever he wants to happen here can't be good. Unfortunately, Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise have been unable to follow Nott long enough to find out where he's even going, much less what he's doing. I was hoping, though, that you might be able to help."

Dobby and Winky nodded vigorously. "Yes, Missy Jazzy! We can be doing!" Dobby exclaimed.

"Great," Jasmine responded. "Don't exhaust yourselves or anything like that. But more importantly, don't let yourselves be seen. The top priority here is secrecy. Got it?"

"Yes, Missy Jazzy! We will be following nasty snakey boy without anyone knowing it!" Without another word, they popped away.

* * *

 **Friday, March 10, 1996, Evening.**

"Minister Fudge? Minister Fudge?"

"Yes, what is it, Weatherby?" Fudge asked as he looked out from several piles of parchment on his desk. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"I'm sorry, Minister," Percy said, "but I'm heading home for the night and wanted to see if there was anything I could do for you before I left."

"No, no, just leave me in... no! Wait!" Fudge cried out even as Percy was closing the door. "There is something you can do. Come in, sit down. I've been trying to figure out a way to take Potter into custody. I can't do it at Hogwarts, she has too much support there. Even if Dumbledore weren't there, it would be a problem. Instead, I'd like to get her out of the school. I thought about luring her to the Ministry where we can be in control of the situation, but I haven't been able to think of any way to do that. You knew the girl — what do you think would work?"

Percy considered that. "Well, as an orphan she's never known much about her family. If you had anything relating to her parents or even grandparents, whether information or personal items, that would surely get her attention."

"Yes, yes, that's an excellent idea," Fudge said as he started writing. "I can't imagine that we'd have anything like that, but I'll have a search done. What else?"

"There isn't much about the Ministry itself that would interest her," Percy continued. "She's never been one for the order and security that is provided here. However, the Department of Mysteries might be something she'd find attractive. They do so many unusual and dangerous things there."

"The Department of Mysteries," Cornelius Fudge whispered to himself. "Why didn't I think of it before?"

"In fact," Percy continued, now sounding a bit more confident, "the prophecies kept down there might be a good choice. They aren't dangerous, but the idea that there is a prophecy about her would appeal to her attention-seeking character."

"Prophecies, you say?" Fudge asked, suddenly remembering something important. He dug through one of the tall piles of parchment swaying dangerously next to his desk and pulled out a report on the addition of several new security measures in the Department of Mysteries — and specifically the Prophecy Room. "Yes, this would work nicely. I can lure her in, then capture her in the act!"

Percy cleared his throat. "Sir, given how violent she is, do we want to risk a fight in the middle of all those prophecies?"

"A fight?" Fudge asked. "No, no, we can't have that. Quite right... but we can capture her on her way out! Yes, that's it! We'll be waiting for her when she leaves!"

Fudge and Weatherby worked long into the night trying to come up with ways to convince Jasmine Potter that there was a prophecy she urgently needed to see.

* * *

 **Saturday, March 11, 1996, Late Morning.**

"Good morning, Miss Potter! Miss Granger! I'm so delighted to finally make your acquaintance!"

Jasmine and Hermione hadn't known what to expect when they learned that Xenophilius Lovegood wanted to personally interview them for the April issue of _The Quibbler,_ but the man who opened the door of the private meeting room in the Three Broomsticks was unlike anyone they'd ever seen... except for perhaps Luna, which explained oh-so-much about the little blonde witch.

Tall and thin, Xenophilius was dressed so garishly that his outfit probably would have given even Albus Dumbledore pause. His eyes, though, conveyed both intelligence and curiosity, two of the characteristics they liked most about Luna herself.

"I've already ordered a selection of food and drink for lunch, and... oh, who's this, then?" Xeno said as Gabrielle walked in behind the other two.

"This is Gabrielle Delacour," Jasmine said. "She entered Hogwarts this year as a fourth-year student. She, uh, tends to stick close to me and Hermione."

Gabrielle fixed the older wizard with an indecipherable look before declaring, "I am zeir protector. I am here to ensure zat nothing happens to zem."

Xeno raised one eyebrow at her, then said calmly, "I'm impressed that they earned such loyalty from one such as you. I can promise them and you that I bear none of you any ill will."

Gabrielle nodded once, then moved to stand by the door after casting a number of silencing and anti-eavesdropping charms on it.

"Before we begin," Xeno said as he motioned for the other two witches to sit at a table where he'd already arranged some parchment and quills, "I'd like to thank you for taking my Luna under your wings and helping her. She wrote to me several times before the summer holidays about how much she enjoyed spending time with you and your friends, and then during the summer there was little else she would talk about."

"It was our pleasure," Jasmine assured him. "We learned that she wasn't being treated as well as she deserved and wanted to do something about it. Since we didn't know who was doing what, we couldn't go after them directly, but we could offer her sanctuary with us and make it publicly known that she was our friend."

"Well, it definitely helped," Xeno said. "After her mother's death she withdrew into herself, and it got worse after she started at Hogwarts. It was only after joining you and your friends that the vivacious little girl I remember appeared once again. I'm also pleased that you've been including her in what you've been teaching others. She's become so much more self-confident and assertive."

After a few moments of shuffling parchment, he continued, "Now, this interview won't appear until next month, and I'm sure that it will result in all sorts of trouble for all of us."

"Would you rather not do it?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"Oh, no," Xeno replied. "That wasn't a complaint at all — I'm looking forward to it! Since I'm not breaking any laws, they can't do anything to me directly. Instead they have to waste a lot of time finding ways to harass me, all of which I include in following issues as proof that the Ministry is scared of the truth, thus increasing sales. It's wonderful! I only wish they'd started coming after me years ago. You'd think they would have once I started exposing the Rotfang Conspiracy, but maybe they never noticed. Oh, well — better late than never!"

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other and shrugged. They still hadn't figured out how to respond to Luna when she went on about such things and certainly didn't want to get on Xeno's bad side. Quite apart from how helpful he'd been, he seemed like too nice of a man.

"Let's start with some basic background," Xeno said next as he set up a couple of auto-dictation quills to record everything that would be said. "Why don't you each tell me a little bit about yourselves, where you come from, and where you see yourselves going in the future."

They spent the next four hours, with only a short break as lunch was delivered, going over everything that the two witches felt comfortable disclosing. This included all of the details of her various "adventures" in Hogwarts over the years, from her confrontation with Quirrell, to her epic fight with the basilisk, to her driving off all the dementors, and finally to her perspective on everything that had happened to her during the Triwizard Tournament.

Jasmine had never wanted to publicize all of that — not simply because of her innate reluctance to talk about herself, but because she didn't want to sound like a braggart. The recent articles in the Daily Prophet had forced her to change her mind, however, since wizards and witches in Britain were now reading a narrow and twisted version of her life. She needed to get the truth out there somehow, and that meant giving near to full disclosure to a trusted reporter.

Both girls knew that they were lucky to have found someone like Xeno, who not only believed them, but who wanted to print their stories. Of course, when they remembered that he also believed in something called a Rotfang Conspiracy and in magical creatures called snorkacks, they were less sure how advantageous it was that he was one of their primary supporters. As Hermione had once said, "If the man will believe pretty much anything, the fact that he believes us doesn't say much about him, does it?"

Yet, as Jasmine had pointed out at the time, "Strange help is better than no help," so they refrained from expressing such doubts aloud and simply thanked the odd wizard for what he was doing. He of course waved their gratitude away and insisted on thanking _them_ , noting that they'd given him enough material to write two or three interesting articles that could be published over the course of several issues.

He then promptly ignored them as he began writing said articles.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore watched from a darkened corner in the back of the tavern as the three witches left the Three Broomsticks. He'd arrived under glamours, having followed the witches as closely as possible during their time in Hogsmeade, but he still kept to the shadows as much as possible. While they had shopped earlier in the day, he was sure that Miss Delacour had looked at him suspiciously more than once, and he wasn't sure if there was anything about veela magic which might let them see through concealment spells.

 _Now I have proof of a connection with Xeno_ , Dumbledore thought with satisfaction. _This certainly can't be their first meeting in Hogsmeade — when I got Rosmerta to tell me who had rented the room, she let slip that he'd rented it quite often. So he's here regularly, probably to meet and plan with Miss Potter and Miss Granger. He's involved with the rituals, as demonstrated by the articles he publishes; Miss Potter and Miss Granger are also involved somehow, as demonstrated by their connection to Xeno and their reaction to learning about when the horcruxes exploded._

 _The question is, who else is involved?_ he wondered as he sipped his drink. _One fringe journalist and two underaged witches would not be enough to accomplish all that's been done — though hopefully my students haven't participated in any of the rituals. It seems unlikely, given the fact that they have occurred during the school term when they've been in the castle. The presence of Miss Delacour at this meeting forces me to reconsider how deeply involved the French and the veela still are. I had thought that perhaps they had merely introduced some British wizards and witches to these rituals, and then Miss Potter and Miss Granger had gotten involved after that — perhaps through Miss Lovegood. But maybe the connection is more direct? If so, it's likely that my new Defense professor is involved as well, and came here with an agenda of her own. That might fit what I've heard about how skilled they are in combat, and how quickly they move to follow Miss Potter and Miss Granger into a fight._

After a while, the disguised headmaster dropped some coins on the table to pay for his drink and wandered back up to the castle, lost in thought as he tried to examine all the different possibilities and permutations. Above all, he was worried that Jasmine and Hermione might have participated in one or more rituals, introducing them to behavior that had long been suppressed for the good of the community, as well as to power that would surely corrupt them if allowed to continue unchecked.

 _I do hope that I'm not too late to protect them_ , he thought as he entered his office.

* * *

After disillusioning themselves and scaring away a small group of younger students who had been daring each other to get close to the Shrieking Shack, Jasmine, Hermione, and Gabrielle soon found themselves inside "the most haunted building in Britain," resting on comfortable furniture which Apolline, Adrienne, and Fleur had transfigured while waiting for them.

"Thank you for coming," Jasmine said. "We didn't want to be a bother, but—"

"You are never a bother," Apolline insisted firmly. "If you say it's important, then it's important and we want to hear about it."

"Well, we _think_ it's important," Hermione said. "We... we're honestly not sure what's going on, or if any of this is related. The only other person we could talk to about this is the Headmaster, but it would require telling him some secrets of ours that we're simply not willing to trust him with. We're not as angry with him as we used to be, but we're not telling anyone else about our bond or about the veela prophecy unless we absolutely have to."

"And we may have to, in this case," Jasmine added. "But we have more trust in you than in him, so we're going to share with you a secret he told us rather than the other way around. And this is a big secret. Basically, if Voldemort even _suspected_ that anyone was discussing this topic, he would probably take steps that might make it impossible to defeat him. OK?"

The grave looks from all four veela made it clear that the message had been driven home, and they all agreed to not tell anyone about this conversation unless Jasmine or Hermione authorized it.

"Do any of you know anything about horcruxes?" Jasmine asked. When they all shook their heads, Hermione recounted what she'd learned at Grimmauld Place about what they were and how they were made, and none of the listeners could hide just how disgusted they were with even the thought of such vile magic.

"Let me guess," Adrienne said once Hermione was done. "Your dark lord made one?"

"Several," Jasmine answered, horrifying the others even more.

"So you need to track them down and destroy them."

"Yes," Jasmine confirmed. "Or, maybe not. I don't know... we haven't gotten to the problem yet. The problem is that his horcruxes have been exploding."

"Problem?" Fleur asked incredulously. "I'd call it a blessing!"

"Well, it's a problem for anyone nearby," Hermione said, "because apparently the explosions are rather violent."

"But more than that is _when_ they've been exploding," Jasmine added. "Dumbledore informed us about them going all explody when he first told us that they existed, but last month he finally told us when the explosions happened."

"Wait," Hermione said, holding up a hand. "Explody?"

Jasmine grimaced. "Sorry... I think I might have picked that up from Dobby and Winky at some point."

Hermione shook her head in exasperation. "Just when I thought their grasp of the Queen's English couldn't get any worse. I'll bet they got that from that American bloke, didn't they?"

"As I was saying," Jasmine continued, trying to ignore the amused expressions on the others' faces, "April 30, 1996. Beltane. September 22, 1996. The Autumnal Equinox. October 31, 1996. Samhain."

"Our rituals." Apolline whispered.

"Two of them were the first two rituals in which we believe you acted as vessels of the goddesses," Adrienne said, her brow furrowed in thought. "The third took place in between and was the most powerful of the other rituals since Beltane."

"Nothing on Yule or Imbolc?" Apolline asked.

"Maybe, maybe not," Jasmine said with a shrug. "There might have been horcruxes that exploded on Yule and Imbolc, but unless and until someone stumbles across the places where they were hidden and can do the right tests, we'll never know for sure."

"It was mostly luck that Dumbledore was able to put the pieces together and notice the pattern in the first place," Hermione pointed out, "and even bigger luck that he has no idea that there might be a connection to the rituals we're participating in."

"But is there a connection?" Adrienne asked. "That's the question, yes?"

"That, and whether our soul bond might be involved," Jasmine responded. "I have, or maybe had, some sort of connection to him in the past. My scar hurt when he was around, and a few times I got dreams or visions that might have been linked to what he was doing. None of that has happened since shortly before fourth year, and even my scar started healing up some time after Samhain."

The three older veela looked at Jasmine with much greater interest, making her squirm a bit under their scrutiny.

"It might all be a coincidence," Hermione said at last. "It's definitely true that rituals occurred — including big ones — without certain horcruxes reacting. The one that exploded on Samhain, for example, didn't explode on Beltane."

"You _assume_ that they didn't react," Adrienne corrected. "Unless someone was there watching, we don't know what was happening. It could well be that the ones that survived until Samhain did so because they were stronger, or had stronger protections, and so didn't explode until they had been weakened. But otherwise, you're right: it might be a coincidence."

"Unfortunately, we can't afford to simply presume that it is," Apolline added. "You need to eliminate these horcruxes in order to eliminate your dark lord."

"More than that," Jasmine said, "I don't want to fight him again until his horcruxes are destroyed because if I defeat him then, he'll still come back, sooner or later. But once they are destroyed, I need to fight him as soon as it's reasonable to do so because I want to strike while he's still mortal — before he has a chance to do something else that might protect him."

"You have a plan, then?" Apolline asked.

Jasmine shrugged. "Not so much a plan as a guiding principle. Hit him when he's most vulnerable and do it when we can control the circumstances."

"I can see then how this issue throws that into disarray," Adrienne said. "You may be closer to destroying his horcruxes than you realize. You may in fact have already destroyed them all, for all you know, in which case your desired window of opportunity opened without you realizing it and may already be closing."

"One of the elders of our people may be able to help," Apolline said. "Catherine-Rosalie is the oldest living veela ever. In her youth, she spied for us at the French royal court; after she faked her death and returned to us, she became one of our foremost experts on soul magics. She lives mostly in seclusion these days, but I think she will consent to see me about this — providing you give me your permission to share all of this with her?"

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other briefly, then Hermione said, "Yes, just so long as she understands how sensitive this information is. But if she has any ideas or suggestions that might help, we'll be eager to hear them."

* * *

 **Thursday, March 16, 1996. Evening.**

"Missy Hermy?" came a whispered voice from behind her. When Hermione turned, she saw Dobby peeking out from behind her trunk. And if she wasn't mistaken, he looked like he was wearing a dark trench coat... and was that—?

"Dobby?" she said softly. "Are you wearing a _fedora_?"

"Yes, Missy Hermy," said Winky, whose head came up from behind Dobby, wearing the same style hat.

Hermione's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I probably don't really want to know the answer to this, but... where did you get those getups?"

"Missy Jazzy be saying that these be uniforms for being sneaky!" Dobby replied earnestly.

"Did we do wrong?" Winky asked, her eyes going wide in worry.

"No, no!" Hermione said quickly, not wanting the elves to get upset when they had clearly been following Jasmine's guidance. Or misguidance. "What is it you wanted to tell me?"

"We be having information," Dobby said. "We be following snakey boy!"

"Oh, great!" Hermione exclaimed, only to have the house elf shush her. "Sorry!" she whispered, then said, "Why are we whispering?"

"Because this be secret assignment!" Dobby answered, as if it had been obvious all along. That reminded Hermione about how she and Jasmine had stressed secrecy. Apparently they had taken the instructions to heart.

"Alright," she said, kneeling down and whispering as low as she could. "What did you learn about Nott?"

"Dobby and Winky be following snakey boy all day and all night," the elf explained, "and we be finding that snakey boy be using Come and Go Room!"

"Huh," Hermione mused. "That's interesting... do you know what he was doing in there?"

Dobby's wide eyes grew remorseful. "No, Missy Jazzy, we not be learning that."

"That's fine, Dobby," she assured him. "See if you can find any patterns to when he goes to the room — days of the week, times of day, that sort of thing."

Dobby nodded vigorously, then disappeared with a soft pop.

"Oh, Jasmine," Hermione called out. "We need to talk..."

* * *

 **Saturday, March 18, 1996, Morning.**

"I've got some good news, and I've got some bad news," Jasmine told the DA leaders before they could start their practice session. "The good news is that we're going to start working on some new stuff — specifically, how to fight effectively in pairs and larger groups. The bad news is that there's intelligence suggesting that Voldemort may send people to invade the castle. So the new focus in training will be how to work in groups to defend the castle."

"I didn't think anyone had ever successfully invaded Hogwarts," Susan objected. "Do you really think he'll succeed?"

"I honestly don't know," Jasmine admitted, "but we can't take the chance that he will. He has a habit of doing things others have failed at. Given his history, in fact, I'm going to assume that he will use some sneaky way of getting past all of the heavy outer defenses and appear right in the Great Hall or something. There are multiple hidden passages out of the castle — maybe there's one that's been lost for a long time and he's discovered it? Who knows."

"First we'll practice splitting defense and offense," Hermione said, reading from a parchment. "That's what you'll need to start teaching other students in your houses immediately. Second will be how to combine spells for greater effect, like one person casting a blasting hex and another following up with a strong wind charm to send the shrapnel at the enemy. Third will be how one person can cast spells to distract or confuse the enemy while the other casts the real attacks."

"And zat is just ze start," Fleur chimed in. "All of zat is basic tactics for a pair of you working together. Once you do well with zat, we'll increase ze size of your teams and zereby increase ze complexity of your tactics — such as one person attacking, one defending, and a third providing support to whichever of ze other two needs it ze most."

"Based on the information gathered by Susan last summer," Jasmine said, "the Death Eaters don't use what muggles call 'small unit tactics.' That refers to individuals with different specializations working together as a team. Instead, Death Eaters fight as individuals and focus on their own targets or goals without much regard for what other Death Eaters are doing. They're older, stronger, more skilled, and more experienced than you, never mind the rest of the students in the castle. So fighting as units may be our only way to stop them."

Once they had divided up into pairs, the students spent the next three hours practicing different tactics against each other and against Jasmine and Hermione as individuals. They weren't good yet, but by the end they were picking up the basics and showing improvement.

That afternoon, when they went to the secret training cavern with Flitwick, they had him begin instructing them on how to best combine their talents so they could fight as a team. They, too, made progress, and when they held their monthly duel with him, they lasted almost half a minute before their Charms Professor took them down. They were depressed at their persistently poor showing, but he was pleased at how much better they were getting and assured them that as they learned to work together, they'd find themselves improving by leaps and bounds.

* * *

 **Sunday, March 19, 1996, Afternoon.**

"The Headmaster has informed me that he's taking you out of the castle this evening," Minerva said as she offered Jasmine the pot of tea. "He wouldn't tell me why, just that I needed to distract Dolores if she starts getting too curious. I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me what this is all about?"

"I'm sorry, I can't," Jasmine said, looking genuinely embarrassed at having to keep the information from her favorite professor and now close confidante. "He made me promise not to talk about it with anyone who didn't already know."

"I don't suppose you're aware of what's going on, Miss Granger?" Minerva asked.

"I am, but I'm not allowed to go," Hermione said with a scowl. "That was something else he insisted on."

Minerva pursed her lips. "I don't like being kept in the dark like this. I can't help you or him if I don't know what's going on." Then she sighed in resignation. "I suppose I should be used to it by now, though." The girls nodded in sympathy.

The discussion wended its way through other topics, and eventually it was time for them to leave. "Before we go," Hermione said as they were cleaning up, "Jasmine and I learned recently that your birthday was earlier this month."

"And you never told us!" Jasmine added with a pout.

Minerva rolled her eyes, "I haven't done anything about my birthday in ages."

"Well, that's why we have," Hermione said triumphantly as she pulled a wrapped package from her bag.

"But... you... you shouldn't have," Minerva said, clearly surprised.

"We wanted to," Jasmine said with a look of anticipation as the older witch accepted the gift. Minerva looked back and forth at the two for a moment before sighing and pulling off the wrapping. She was soon holding a photo album, and when she opened it she found that it was filled with pictures of her and her students.

"Some of these we got by writing to others, some we got with the help of other professors," Hermione explained. "And some we took ourselves over this past year with a magical camera we bought during the summer."

"This... this is lovely," Minerva said thickly, working hard to hold back tears.

"It just needs one more addition," Jasmine said as she pulled the camera out of her own bag. "There aren't any pictures in there of the three of us, and we'd like to take one." Minerva was speechless, and simply allowed herself to be maneuvered to the couch in her private quarters where Jasmine and Hermione sat on either side of her. One levitated the camera while the other activated the shutter remotely.

Then they had to do it a second time because at the last instant, Jasmine shouted, "Say Haggis!" causing the other two to suddenly turn and scowl at her. Jasmine thought that picture was hilarious and absolutely refused to let Hermione destroy it.

Minerva didn't get a copy of the second photo for a few days, but when she did she chose to display it on the coffee table of her quarters rather than keep it hidden away in an album.

It was easily the nicest and most meaningful birthday gift she'd received in decades.


	42. Pyromania

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "The Reclamation of Black Magic" by ShayaLonnie. Harry's grandmother, Dorea Potter, didn't die from dragon pox as everyone thought. Instead, she's been in an enforced magical coma while undergoing an experimental treatment in Australia. Once she awakens, she demands to know what's happened with the rest of her family, and when she learns what Albus Dumbledore has done with her grandson... heads will roll.

 **Final Countdown: 10...9!**

* * *

 **Chapter 42 - Pyromania**

 **Sunday, March 19, 1996. Evening.**

"Are you ready for a bit of adventure, Miss Potter?" Dumbledore asked, and Jasmine gave him a nod — though not a happy or eager one, judging by the expression on her face. "I take it you're still upset that I've insisted on you accompanying me alone, forcing you to leave Miss Granger behind. Miss Delacour, too."

Dumbledore watched his student's face carefully and saw the expected look of surprise and slight bit of guilt. "I dare say I'm not the only one who's noticed how much the young Miss Delacour follows you around. Something to do with you rescuing her from the Black Lake, I expect?" She readily agreed with that explanation, and he felt that a number of theories were being confirmed.

"I truly regret separating you from your friends like this," Dumbledore continued, "but as I explained before, this could be dangerous, and I'm not sure that I'd be able to protect two or three of you if the need arose. I'm still not at my best, almost five months after my injury; but even if I were, circumstances might prevent me from ensuring the safety of more than one of you. And surely you wouldn't want me to be put in a position where I'd be forced to choose."

Jasmine's eyes went wide at that possibility, something she clearly hadn't considered before. "N-no, Professor!"

"And while we are on the subject," Dumbledore said, "I must insist on a promise from you before we leave: you must agree to follow my orders without question, even if I tell you to flee and leave me behind. Do you understand?"

Jasmine shock at the idea was plain, and Dumbledore was more than a little relieved. "But... but I couldn't!" she protested.

"You must," he retorted. "I will not compromise on your safety, even at the cost of my own."

Jasmine sagged a bit before saying, "Alright. I promise."

"Very well then, it's time we were off. We'll use the floo to get outside the castle's wards, then we'll apparate to a spot close to our destination. First stop: the Hog's Head Inn." Dumbledore announced the name of the inn in Hogsmeade and disappeared into the green flames of his fireplace, followed closely by Jasmine.

Once she had picked herself up off the dirty floor and brushed the soot from her robes, she looked around and saw the Headmaster standing nearby with a sad, pinched look on his face while an old man behind the bar scowled at him. After giving the bartender a nod, Dumbledore gestured to Jasmine to follow him out of the inn.

"He didn't seem to like you very much," she observed once they were outside.

"Indeed," Dumbledore responded. "As you yourself have unfortunately learned, family does not always get along like they should." She looked up at him in astonishment, but before she could say anything he went on, "Fortunately, he will not speak to anyone about our passing through tonight. Now, take my arm and hold on tight." She did as instructed and quickly felt herself being pulled through a straw as the Headmaster apparated them away.

When she tumbled to the ground, she felt grass beneath her hands and heard the crashing of nearby waves. Dumbledore stood patiently as she got to her feet, looking off into the distance as if working on some important riddle rather than waiting for her. Once she was standing again, she saw almost immediately that they were near the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea.

"Where are we?" Jasmine asked.

"On the southern coast of England," Dumbledore answered. "The children of Wool's Orphanage were often brought here for an afternoon trip."

"So this was someplace Voldemort... er, Tom frequently came?

Dumbledore nodded. "I imagine that this was one of the first places he felt happy. Free. It became important to him, and after your comments about how he must have felt about Hogwarts, I decided that it would be a good idea to investigate places like this. I didn't venture far the last time I was here, but what I discovered was significant enough that it seemed worthwhile to return with you. We shouldn't tarry, though. I have no idea how long this will take, and it's already late." He started moving purposefully towards a steep path that had been all but invisible in the darkness, then proceeded down it as if he'd been walking along such treacherous ground all his life.

"Uh, Professor?" Jasmine asked from behind. "Have you heard from Remus? Do you know how he's doing?"

"I take it Sirius informed you of his mission, then?" Dumbledore asked with a sigh. "That is unfortunate, and I ask that you not allow it to spread around. His safety depends heavily on secrecy — if Voldemort even suspects that we've sent one of our number to the continent, he'd go to great lengths to capture him."

"Yes, sir, I won't tell anyone."

"I won't lie to you: it is a dangerous mission. It's an important one, however, and he volunteered for it."

"Well, it's not as if he had anything else to do, like a job," Jasmine said a little bitterly.

"That is true," Dumbledore replied, and there was sadness in his eyes. "The situation for werewolves in Britain has deteriorated recently."

"Thanks to Snape," Jasmine muttered.

" _Professor_ Snape," Dumbledore said automatically, "and he's hardly in a position to—"

"Throw a tantrum over failing to murder my godfather — a tantrum which included ratting out Remus, making it possible for foul people like Umbridge to pass more oppressive laws? I think he was in _exactly_ that position," Jasmine insisted.

Dumbledore paused and looked at her carefully for a long moment. "An interesting line of reasoning," he said finally. "Nevertheless, I have not ignored the importance of Remus' safety — nor of his importance to you. Before he left, I gifted him with a small gold pendant in the shape of a phoenix. I personally enchanted it to act as a portkey, one powerful enough to take him through most wards and back to the front gates of Hogwarts. I had to stay in bed for an entire weekend after I did it, but I wanted to ensure that he had the best protection I could give him."

"Thank you, Professor," Jasmine said in a small voice. "I... I appreciate that."

"Not at all, my dear — I was happy to do what I could."

The rest of the journey down the path was spent in silence, and soon they were standing in front of what appeared to be a shallow sea cave carved out of the rock by millennia of relentless waves. Once at the back of the cave, Dumbledore started casting detection spells at various spots along the wall. "Good, nothing has changed," he murmured before making a slash across his palm.

"Professor!" Jasmine cried.

"This entrance requires a blood sacrifice, I'm afraid."

"But... but I could have—"

"No, my dear, I must do it," Dumbledore insisted as he flung droplets of blood across the wall. "Your blood is much more valuable than mine. Too valuable to waste like this." Jasmine stared at him, dumbfounded, as he bound his injured hand and the back wall of the cave slid open to reveal a much, much larger inner cave.

Aside from its sheer size, an unnaturally still lake with an island at the center was the only noteworthy feature of this new cavern. "That small island is our destination, if I'm not mistaken," Dumbledore said.

"I wish I'd brought my broom," Jasmine lamented. "We could have flown."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I believe that the magic in this cave would prevent such an approach, just as it prevents all forms of magical travel in or out. It can't even be directly detected from the outside, it's so well shielded."

"I don't fancy having to swim across," she muttered, shivering as she eyed the eerie, unmoving water.

"No, neither do I," Dumbledore replied darkly as he examined a post that was sticking out of the ground near the edge of the lake. Reaching down, he grabbed hold of a chain leading away from the post and into the water. When he did so, the chain began rising and a small boat came up out of the water, moving towards them on the shore. "This looks like our ride," he said when it touched land. "Step in carefully, now, and whatever you do, don't touch the water."

"Why shouldn't I touch the water?" she asked once they were underway. She leaned a little over the side, then pulled back so suddenly that she caused the boat to rock. "What _is_ that? Down in the water?"

"Inferi," Dumbledore answered. "Reanimated corpses. Hundreds and hundreds of them, I suspect. I always wondered what he did with so many of his victims. Now I think I could have done without that bit of knowledge."

"How could anyone do such a thing?" Jasmine asked in horror.

"By accident, originally," Dumbledore answered, watching his student carefully. At her blank look, he explained, "The first inferi were created entirely by accident in a magical ritual that went wrong." He noted with interest that her expression held more than a little guilt along with the expected distress. "Healers were trying to perform a healing ritual on some people who had been too badly injured for regular spells and potions to help. Such rituals were frowned upon even then, but the healers had foolishly convinced themselves that nothing else would work. No one is quite sure what went wrong, since the only survivor was quite insane by the time they were rescued, but it's thought that the patients were already dead when the ritual was complete." She now looked positively ill at the story, which was exactly what he was hoping for.

"Given how complex and sensitive rituals can be," he concluded, "they are even more susceptible to mistakes than simple wand movements and incantations, so who knows what those poor, misguided healers did. Eventually someone figured out how to do it deliberately. And now, thanks to a single botched ritual, dark wizards are able to create these monstrosities. Only fire or complete dismemberment can stop them." The girl's expression turned thoughtful then, which confused Dumbledore a little, but he couldn't pursue it any further because they had arrived at the small island.

At the center of the island was a basin filled with a greenish, glowing liquid, and at the bottom was what looked like a locket of some sort. Dumbledore tried several different spells to vanish or transfigure the liquid without success. He then attempted to reach in and grab the locket, also without success. "It seems," he said slowly as he lifted a crystal goblet that had been sitting on the side of the basin, "that someone must drink the potion before the locket can be removed. All of it."

She looked on, appalled, as he filled the cup. Before raising it to his lips, he gazed resolutely at her.

"Remember your promise, Miss Potter. Remember your promise."

* * *

Gabrielle paced back and forth in the Gryffindor common room, just as she had been doing for the past hour. Her anxiety and short temper had driven most of the rest of the students out, and except for Jasmine and Hermione's closest friends, those who remained stayed as far away as possible.

Hermione reached out and grabbed Gabrielle's hand, forcing her to stop and look at the brunette witch. Hermione hadn't been able to concentrate on her assignments ever since Jasmine had left, and Gabrielle's pacing had worn away what little patience she'd had left. "I know it's frustrating," she said, trying not to snap at the younger witch,"but pacing like this won't help either her or you."

"I don't know what else to do!" Gabrielle cried. "I should be with her. _You_ should be with her. I don't trust zat old man with her alone!" She paused to take a deep breath. "I am sure it is worse for Fleur, since she doesn't even have you to help get through zis night. If it weren't already so late, I would try to spend time with her, but with Umbridge around we cannot take ze chance."

"Dumbledore isn't going to hurt Jasmine," Hermione said. "For all the things he's done, he's never deliberately tried to do her harm. He's more likely to go too far in protecting her. In any event, please try to find a more productive outlet for all this nervous energy."

"Like what?"

"How about creating a dummy and using it for target practice with that huge knife of yours," Ginny suggested. Hermione looked aghast, but Gabrielle smiled and immediately began transfiguring a cushion into a human-shaped target dummy.

"Why would you suggest such a thing?" Hermione hissed at Ginny.

"It is a short sword, by ze way," Gabrielle announced as she threw it and struck the dummy square in the head at a distance of seven meters.

"I'm curious about what it will take to get the rest of them to leave," Ginny said with a glint in her eye. Hermione looked around the mostly-empty common room and noticed that the remaining Gryffindors, all on the far side of the room, started squirming uncomfortably when Gabrielle chose to target the dummy's crotch rather than its head.

* * *

"No... please no..."

Jasmine regretted ever making that horrible promise as she refilled the cup from the basin.

"I don't want to. Please, no more..."

Jasmine wished that there were some other solution as she forced open an old man's mouth and poured the vile potion down his throat.

"Why? Oh, why?"

Jasmine hated herself as she longed for some means to block out the piteous cries of her headmaster — cries of terror, pain, and she knew not what else, except that _she_ was causing it, and it was tearing her apart to have to do it.

"Please, stop. _Please_ , just make it all stop!"

"Sure, Professor," she said shakily as she pushed another cup of potion at him. "This will make it all stop for you." She hated herself even more for lying like that as she watched him willingly gulp down the very substance that was torturing him.

Dumbledore abruptly screamed in terror almost as soon as he finished that cup, causing Jasmine to stumble back in surprise, but she quickly took the cup and filled it again.

"I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry... I should have protected you..." he started whimpering as she forced more potion down his throat. She'd never seen the old man looking so frail, so vulnerable. She'd never even imagined that he could look like this, and she wondered if he was reliving his experiences from the war.

"It really is all my fault!" he cried. "I won't do it again — I _promise_ I won't! Just... please, no more..."

"We're nearly there," she told him, desperate to get this over with. She'd distrusted him for what he'd done to her, then hated him for what he'd done to Hermione. Now, though...

"I don't want to, not again!" the Headmaster cried. "I'd rather die. Please, _let me die!"_

Removing the glowing green potion also removed the primary light she'd had to see by, so it was only the sound of the cup striking the bottom of the basin which told her how close they were to finishing.

"We're almost done, Professor," she said, trying to sound confident and reassuring as she tortured him some more. A year ago she had frequently thought about ways she might hurt him in order to pay him back for his many crimes. Now that she was doing it, though, all she wanted was to find a way to make him feel better again.

"No more, please," Dumbledore pleaded, either to her or to some demons that only he could see. "Kill me instead. Please, _**just kill me**_."

"Last one," Jasmine promised him. "Drink this and it will all be over." Holding his shaking hands in her own, she helped him drink the last cup of potion, then watched as he gasped and slumped over as if dead.

She leaned back, stunned, then quickly reached out and felt along his neck for a pulse. Sighing with relief when she found it, she knew she couldn't relax yet because it felt so weak. _"_ _ **Renervate!**_ _"_ she incanted, waking the old wizard, who looked around blearily as if he wasn't sure where he was.

"I..." he started, his eyes darting back and forth. "Thirsty," he croaked hoarsely.

"I'll get you some water!" she said, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't fill the cup from her water spell. Because Dumbledore kept looking worse and worse the longer she delayed, she finally gave up and disobeyed one of his first instructions by running to the shore and filling the cup with water from the lake. So rushed was she to return to her professor with his needed drink that she never noticed how the surface of the lake started churning as boney, white hands appeared and began groping their way towards the shore.

"Drink this," she said as she helped him gulp down the water. Before she could assess his condition, she heard moaning and scraping behind her. Her wand shot back into her hand as she turned, and she gasped in horror when she saw the shuffling mass of dead bodies reaching for her as they exited the lake.

She'd barely registered the fact that the sounds of inferi were starting to come from all around her when she cast her first spell.

* * *

Gabrielle had just caught her short sword after summoning it back from the body of the dummy when she collapsed and gasped in pain, clutching at her chest in desperation.

"What is it?" Neville asked as he quickly knelt beside her. "Did you cut yourself or something?"

"No... Jasmine..." Gabrielle whispered, and Neville looked up at Hermione, who was more than a little pale.

"There's something wrong," Hermione said. "I don't know what it is, but... something's gone very, very wrong."

"Can you go to her?" Gabrielle asked, looking helplessly up at Hermione, who shook her head and looked just as helpless.

"I don't know where she is," Hermione said in a hollow voice. "There's no way for me to get to her." She slumped down on the floor and pulled Gabrielle into a tight embrace, happy now that Ginny's prank had chased everyone else out of the common room.

* * *

 _"_ _ **Sphaera Ignea!**_ _"_

Another half dozen inferi burst into flames from Jasmine's fireball, and they set several more alight as they staggered for the water. Inferi had little in the way of intelligence or self-preservation instincts, but they did know enough to try to escape fire, and Jasmine was making as much use of that as she could. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no end to the number of inferi crawling up out of the lake, and the fact that they were coming from all sides didn't help matters at all.

 _"_ _ **Sphaera Ignea!**_ _"_

Another group of inferi was set aflame and Jasmine collapsed to her knees, exhausted from the rigors of the last hour. She wracked her brain trying to think if there was anything else she could use when she suddenly felt an intense heat coming from all around her.

She looked up and saw that Dumbledore was on his feet, pale and sickly looking, moving his wand in large circles above his head. Angry red flames flowed from the tip of his wand, joining into a massive vortex of fire with them at the center of a safe area about five meters in diameter.

"That... is _so cool_ ," she whispered in awe, and she thought Dumbledore might have heard her when one corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

Inferi caught in the firestorm beyond the five meter mark were being burned to ash, but those already inside the boundary were stumbling to get away — which meant that they were moving with even greater determination towards the two of them. Jasmine cast more fireballs that either destroyed them or pushed them into the surrounding wall of fire where they, too, turned to ash.

Dumbledore stepped over to the basin where he took the locket, then started moving slowly towards the boat, all the while feeding the firestorm around them as the center of the vortex moved with him. Jasmine kept to his side, using her hands to steady him whenever he stumbled on the loose, rocky ground. She could tell that it was taking all his concentration to keep the spell going, and given what had happened to him, she wasn't sure how long he'd be able to keep it up.

The return trip on the boat seemed to take much longer than it had on the way to the island, but once they reached the far shore the surface of the lake had stilled again. Dumbledore cancelled his spell and sagged in his seat.

"I'm sorry," Jasmine said as she helped him out of the tiny boat. "When you said you were thirsty, you looked so awful. All I could think of was getting you something to drink, and none of my spells worked! I didn't even think about your order to not touch the lake."

"It's quite alright, my dear," he responded, his voice weak and faltering. "I suspect quite strongly that that was precisely the point of the trap: to compel a person to choose between dying without the water or taking it and being pulled under and drowned by the inferi. An incredibly cruel decision to force upon someone, and just the sort of thing I'd expect from Tom."

"That spell you used was absolutely brilliant, by the way," Jasmine said as they slowly walked to the cave's entrance with the old man leaning heavily on her. "What was it?"

"It was the Firestorm spell," Dumbledore answered in a hoarse whisper. "Developed around the same time as the Siege Engine spell you used to such great effect in the third task."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to teach it to me?" she asked hopefully.

Despite how tired he was and how much distress he was obviously in, he still managed to chuckle at her request. "Perhaps," he said. "There are quite a few old and powerful spells that you should probably learn at some point, not all of which involve combat. You were quite right, you know, when you chastised me about not training you. That is something which I need to rectify."

"Thank you," she replied, wondering what Hermione might say about this.

She didn't take the time to consult him once they reached the passage they'd come through earlier; she simply cut her own hand on one of the sharp rocks and flung some of her blood against the wall. She noticed that he frowned slightly, but he didn't bother objecting.

Once they exited the outer cave and were standing under the stars again, she asked, "Do you suppose we can apparate from here? We can't walk up that narrow path side-by-side, and I'm not sure you'd be able to get up it even with my help."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, we should be outside all the protective enchantments, but do you think you'll be able to take us both back to Hogsmeade? It must be around a thousand kilometers, and even I didn't find it easy to bring us both here."

Jasmine smiled reassuringly. "Of course I can. Hermione's there." Gripping him tightly, she focused first on Hermione, then on the street in front of the Hog's Head Inn. With a twist and a crack, they were gone.

* * *

Everyone could tell when Hermione and Gabrielle relaxed and started breathing more easily. "Has something changed?" Neville asked.

"She's out of danger," Gabrielle answered. "I'm not sure what ze danger was, but she's safe now."

"Or safer, at least. Safety is usually a relative thing with her," Hermione grumbled as she stood then helped Gabrielle to her feet. "Come on, let's go meet her."

"What about Fleur?" Gabrielle asked.

"Winky! Dobby!" Hermione called out.

Two pops announced their appearance in the common room. "Yes, Missy Hermy?"

"Something happened to Jasmine, but she's on her way back to the castle. Go tell Fleur, and have her meet us in the hospital wing."

"Can we's be doing anything else to help?" Winky asked, and Hermione could see how upset they were.

"I don't know, but if we need you, I promise we'll call," she replied. Both elves nodded before popping out.

"What about Umbridge?" Neville asked as the two witches made their way to the exit.

"I'm a prefect, escorting a sick student to the hospital wing," Hermione asserted, and Gabrielle immediately hunched over and moaned in pain. "We'll make it there."

* * *

Fortunately the Hog's Head was still open, so Jasmine could easily open the door despite also bearing much of Dumbledore's weight. The bartender scowled again as soon as he saw them, but his face quickly shifted to surprise when it became clear just how bad the Headmaster looked. "What happened?" he demanded as he came around the bar and approached them.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you," Jasmine said apologetically. She didn't know who the man was, but if she understood Dumbledore correctly, the two old wizards were related somehow. He probably deserved more of an answer than she was allowed to give. "But I need to get him to Hogwarts."

"To Poppy," the bartender said, walking over to the fireplace and tossing in some floo powder. "Hogwarts Hospital Wing," he called out, and the flames turned green.

"Go through with him," he instructed her. "The wards will let him through as the headmaster, and as long as you hold on tight, you should be able to get in as well. Good luck, lass."

She quickly pulled Dumbledore into the fireplace with her, and as she spun away through the floo, she thought she saw an expression of sadness on the other wizard's face.

There must have been an alert of some sort to warn Madam Pomfrey of an incoming floo connection because she was already waiting when Jasmine and the Headmaster stumbled out of the fireplace. She managed to catch hold of them before Jasmine caused them both to fall, then she promptly dragged them over to the nearest bed, where she helped Dumbledore lie down. He remained awake long enough to call for Fawkes and hand over the locket, then he seemed to collapse in on himself and lost consciousness.

"You take that bed over there, and I'll be with you as soon as I've taken care of the Headmaster," she ordered as Fawkes flamed out of the hospital wing.

"Oh, I'm fine," Jasmine protested. "He's the one—"

"No arguments!" she interrupted. "Bed! Now!"

Jasmine meekly backed away towards the bed which Madam Pomfrey had pointed to, and just as she started to sit down the doors to the hospital wing burst open, revealing Hermione, Gabrielle, and Fleur, all wearing expressions somewhere between worry and anger.

"What happened?" Fleur demanded.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked.

Jasmine raised both hands in a sign of surrender. "I'm alright. Nothing happened to me — it's the Headmaster who suffered. It didn't exactly go well, but we accomplished our goal." Hermione drew her into a tight hug and was joined immediately by Fleur and Gabrielle.

"How'd you know I'd be here, anyway?" Jasmine asked.

Hermione snorted in amusement. "Where else do you always end up?"

* * *

 **Monday, March 20, 1996, Early Morning.**

When Minerva McGonagall entered the hospital wing to check on the Headmaster's condition, she was surprised to find Jasmine asleep in a chair next to his bed while Hermione and Gabrielle slept in beds on either side. In a bed across the aisle was another figure with long blonde hair, and she surmised that it must be Fleur. Trying to remain as quiet as possible, she knocked softly on Pomfrey's door before opening it. She didn't notice that Gabrielle had woken as soon as she entered the wing and that her eyes had tracked the older witch the entire time.

"Poppy?" McGonagall said as she entered the healer's office.

"Ah, Minerva — is anything wrong?" Pomfrey asked, looking up from some parchment work on her desk.

"Why are there three Gryffindor students here in your hospital wing?" she asked.

Pomfrey rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Miss Potter categorically refused to leave the Headmaster alone. Threatened to curse herself or break her arm in order to be admitted after I told her I'd physically remove her — and since she had her wand drawn at the time, I was inclined to believe her."

"She didn't!"

"And once it was clear that she was staying, Miss Granger and Miss Delacour refused to leave _her_ here alone," Pomfrey continued. "I think that Miss Potter wanted to object, but managed to recognize just in time how hypocritical that would be, so she kept her mouth shut. I decided to cut my losses and let them stay before your entire house showed up here demanding beds."

"And Professor Delacour did nothing to stop them?"

Poppy shook her head. "The professor was as adamant as her younger sister about staying."

"I'll go have a talk with them right now!" McGonagall said. "They won't be doing this again, I assure you!"

"No, no, there's no need," Pomfrey said quickly. "To be quite honest, it was helpful to have the extra hands when I was first treating Albus. She has refused to say what exactly they were doing, but it's clear that it was both difficult and dangerous. It's no surprise that she wouldn't want to leave his side — I've seen similar behavior in aurors whose partners were injured on the job."

That calmed McGonagall a bit. "Well, I suppose you have a point there, but what's important is whether they bothered you or interfered with your work. I'm getting the impression that they didn't?"

"Not at all," Pomfrey assured her old friend, "but it is getting late, and they should probably be getting ready for classes."

"I'll go talk to them," McGonagall responded, "but first, how is Albus?"

"Not good and getting worse," Pomfrey admitted. "When he arrived, he was exhausted, dehydrated, and his system had been flooded with an unknown potion. Miss Potter confirmed that he had drunk a potion, but she didn't know what it was and so couldn't help me. Whatever it was, it hurt him badly and is still affecting him. Every time I take a reading, he's a little bit worse."

"What about specialists from St. Mungo's?" McGonagall suggested.

"I'd love to ask them, but I'm under orders not to," Pomfrey said tartly. "Albus anticipated something like this happening, it seems, and gave me instructions earlier this year to not call in anyone else in a situation like this."

Minerva shook her head in frustration. "I wish I could say that I was surprised, but..."

"Right now he's still sleeping because of the exhaustion, but I expect that he'll wake up at some point despite how bad his condition is," Pomfrey added. "If you want to wait around, you're welcome to do so."

"I wish I could; unfortunately, not only do I have morning classes to teach, but I'll also have to take over even more of the administration of the school now," McGonagall said as she stood up. "So I guess I'd better see to my girls out there."

* * *

When McGonagall exited the back office, the four witches were waiting for her, having been awoken by Gabrielle. The professor moved to the foot of Dumbledore's bed and gazed down at him for a long moment, then looked at each of her students in turn. "When I left here last night, I expected that the three of you would go to your dorms shortly thereafter. Did you forget? Surely you didn't lose your way."

"I'm sorry Professor McGonagall," Jasmine said softly, "but I... I couldn't leave him here alone."

"He wouldn't have been alone, Miss Potter," McGonagall said with some asperity. "Madam Pomfrey was here and would have attended to him should he have needed it."

"I know that," Jasmine replied. "But what if he woke up? Even for a couple of minutes? He needed someone here to tell him what had happened, or to pass along any messages he might have. It sucks waking up in a hospital bed in the middle of the night. It smells funny, you're disoriented... believe me, I know. He deserved to have someone here."

Hermione reached out and put a comforting hand on Jasmine's shoulder. McGonagall sighed deeply, wondering what had happened the previous night to change the girl's attitude towards her headmaster so completely. _Her feelings towards him may have been softening_ , McGonagall thought, _but a month or even a week ago, she never would have behaved like this._

"Be that as it may, the three of you can't remain here," McGonagall said flatly. "You all have classes today, and Dolores is already on the prowl. She somehow seemed to know that you were out of the castle last night, and it was all Filius and I could do to cover for you."

"How could she possibly have known?" Jasmine asked, and beside her Hermione frowned.

"I have no idea," McGonagall said with a shake of her head, "but right now we need to prevent this situation from getting any worse. As far as anyone is concerned, you were meeting with him late last night. He left orders that you two weren't to be disturbed while he gave you remedial lessons on... wizarding history and customs. It's something he should have been doing anyway. He had a relapse relating to the injuries he received last Halloween, and you accompanied him here. Got it?"

Jasmine agreed to the cover story, and soon all three Gryffindors were headed back to their dorm. Fleur agreed to escort them in case they encountered Umbridge along the way. McGonagall, though, stayed for a few more minutes and looked sadly at the frail old wizard lying in the bed before her.

"You old fool, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" she asked softly. "Whatever it is, you're lucky you had that young witch there to help you. Maybe you would have had her help long before if you'd treated her better. Now it may be too late."


	43. Bad Medicine

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "The Sum of their Parts" by holdmybeer. There are a lot of stories out there where Harry turns "dark," and most require shifting his personality a great deal. This story is much better because it gives a relatively canon-Harry a very, very good reason to become a Dark Lord: he does it for Teddy. It's an amazing story that deserves to be read. I suspect that I unconsciously got the idea of Walburga being a horcrux from it, though this plays almost no role in that story.

 **Final Countdown: 10...9...8!**

* * *

 **Chapter 43 - Bad Medicine**

 **Monday, March 20, 1996. Evening.**

When Jasmine entered the hospital wing that evening, closely followed by Hermione and Gabrielle, she was sure that Dumbledore looked even worse than he had that morning. As frail and broken as he had seemed to her when she dragged him through the floo less than twenty-four hours earlier, she thought she'd have been happy to see him looking like that now. As she gazed down at her headmaster, taking in his greying skin and hollow cheeks, she felt completely helpless.

"Has he woken at all?" she asked when Madam Pomfrey came out of her office.

"A few times," the healer responded, "but never for long."

"He's getting worse, isn't he?" Hermione said, and Pomfrey simply nodded.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Jasmine asked, sounding more than a little desperate.

"I'm sorry, Miss Potter, but even Professor Snape was unable to determine what sort of potion he ingested," the healer responded. "So even if the Headmaster were to let me seek help at St. Mungo's, I doubt that they'd be able to do much."

"We can't stay long, Jasmine," Hermione said softly as she nudged her girlfriend. "Don't forget that we have, uh, an early morning tomorrow."

At first Jasmine didn't show any sign of having heard her, but slowly her head rose and she turned to look at Hermione with wide, excited eyes. "That's right, we do! You're a genius, Hermione!" The brunette witch gaped in confusion as Jasmine hugged her then turned to Gabrielle. "I need to speak to your sister right away. Can you get her?"

Gabrielle didn't stop to ask any questions, she just nodded and left the hospital wing at a run.

"Madam Pomfrey, I may know of a way to help the Headmaster," Jasmine said to the healer. "It's very, uh, unorthodox, however. I'm honestly not sure yet if it can even be done, but it's definitely not on any list of approved medical treatments."

"You don't mean..." Hermione said, and Jasmine nodded with a smile. "That's brilliant! But will they even let you...?" Jasmine simply shrugged.

"Clearly you both know something I don't," Pomfrey said with a frown. "I'm not at all comfortable with untested or unorthodox treatments that I'm not familiar with — he's my patient, which means I'm responsible for whatever happens to him. That said..." She paused and looked down at the Headmaster. "That said, I'm out of other options. What can you tell me about this treatment?"

"Nothing yet, unfortunately," Jasmine said, getting a scowl in response. "I'm sorry, but it's a secret. If the treatment is allowed, I'm sure you'll be permitted to know as well, but we'll have to wait—"

Just then Gabrielle and Fleur came running into the hospital wing. "What is it? What's ze emergency?" Fleur asked, not looking or sounding the least bit winded.

"It's the Headmaster," Jasmine said, gesturing to the bed. "He isn't getting any better, and Madam Pomfrey has run out of treatments she can try."

"I am not sure what I can do." Fleur said. "I have little training in healing magic."

"Not you," Jasmine responded. "Or at least, not you _personally_. I was thinking... well, what about tomorrow morning?"

"Ah!" Fleur exclaimed. "You want to bring him!"

"Exactly," Jasmine said. "But with him being, you know, him, I wasn't sure if it would be permitted."

Fleur nodded. "I understand your dilemma. Ze others should be in Britain by now, so I will contact zem for permission." She then left the hospital wing just as quickly as she had entered it.

"I don't know about this," Pomfrey said dubiously. "It's all rather secretive and suspicious."

"I wish we could tell you more, but we can't," Hermione said as Jasmine sat next to Dumbledore's bed. "If it would help, you can ask Professor McGonagall about it. She won't be able to give you details either, but maybe she can reassure you that what we want to do is at least safe. Worst case scenario, it simply won't help — it won't hurt him, you, us, or anyone else."

"I suppose I should," Pomfrey said with a huff, "because it looks like it may be a while before I'm allowed to have any detailed information."

* * *

"What's all this about, Miss Potter?" McGonagall asked when she entered the hospital wing a few minutes later. "Poppy contacted me through the floo and said you claimed to know of some way to help the Headmaster but refused to divulge exactly what the treatment was. And I'm supposed to know about it?"

"It's tomorrow morning," Hermione said cryptically, causing McGonagall to stop abruptly as her eyes went wide in understanding. "Oh? Oh! I see... well, that is an interesting idea. Yes... yes, it might work, provided we're allowed to do it."

"We don't seem to have any other options," Jasmine pointed out. "If it doesn't work, it doesn't seem as though anything will."

"I take it you know what these two have been going on about?" Pomfrey asked, sounding annoyed. "Because you're talking in riddles as much as they are."

"I'm sorry, Poppy, but I can't talk about it," McGonagall said gently. "I can promise you, though, that it isn't dangerous."

Pomfrey sniffed. "I'll be the judge of that, thank you so much. I may not have been able to do much for him myself, but I refuse to sign off on any treatment unless and until I know what it involves."

"Nor should you," McGonagall said in agreement. "As soon as we're given permission, I promise I'll tell you everything. The question right now is, can you keep him stable until morning? We won't be able to act until then."

"I'll do my best," Pomfrey said with a sigh. "He's been deteriorating steadily all day, and earlier I wouldn't have said that he'd live to see the morning. But if there's truly hope that he can be healed, I'll do all I can to ensure that he makes it until then."

"If this works out, he'll have to leave the castle, I'm afraid," McGonagall said, earning her a look of outrage from the healer. "I'm sorry, but it can't be done here. So he'll have to be able to travel. And do you think you'll be able to cover for us while we're gone?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Minerva!" Poppy said. "If he has to be taken elsewhere for treatment, then I'm going along too. I won't let any patient of mine out of my sight!"

The other witches all looked at each other in concern, wondering how the school healer would react to what might be coming. McGonagall, though, was alone in wondering how she was going to tell Filius that he'd have to cover for so many absent witches the following morning.

* * *

 **Tuesday, March 21, 1996, Early Morning. 5:00 AM.**

In the end, they counted themselves lucky that Madam Pomfrey insisted on accompanying them. Transporting twelve witches in secret — two adults and ten students — was always a tricky task. Adding in a fragile and unconscious wizard would have made the job impossible if it weren't for Pomfrey's extensive experience with transporting injured and cursed patients to hospitals.

They were also lucky that she didn't object when she finally learned that the "treatment" was a ritual celebration of Eostre. Apparently healers didn't have the knee-jerk hostility to rituals that other wizards and witches did. They weren't allowed to use healing rituals anymore, but they seemed to have retained some sort of institutional memory of how effective they could be, thus inclining Pomfrey to react positively to the idea.

Despite her best efforts, though, the trip to Arbor Low in Derbyshire was rough enough to rouse Dumbledore, even in his current state. As he drifted up from unconsciousness, he realized that he was no longer in the Hogwarts hospital wing, even though Madam Pomfrey was standing above him casting diagnostic spells. His perceptions were hazy, but he gradually began to understand that he was outside in what might have been an open area. He couldn't see well because the sky was only just starting to lighten enough for the stars to begin fading out.

After Madam Pomfrey seemed to be done, he was levitated to a new location where he could see what appeared to be female figures getting a bonfire ready. A bit closer to him was a table with decorations that he couldn't make out, and all around there seemed to be women talking. Once he stopped moving, Pomfrey again started casting spells before someone tried to pull her away.

"I need to stay with my patient," she protested.

"No, you need to get ready to participate," came the reply.

"Par... participate?" the healer asked, clearly surprised. "I didn't... I mean, I don't know how—"

"You'll be fine," came the gentle response. "You're needed in the circle with the others more than you're needed here. Every little bit helps, and the participation of a healer such as yourself will be most welcome, especially given the circumstances today."

"I will watch over him," came another voice, this one near his head. "I'm much too old to participate in these events anymore, but I think I can manage to keep him from running off."

Once they were gone, the unfamiliar voice spoke to him again. "I know you're awake, young man. If you'd like, I can call for some pillows to raise your head a bit."

"Yes, please," he rasped, his throat achingly dry. He had no idea where he was or who these people were, so the prospect of being able to see what was going on was appealing. After a moment he felt his shoulders being lifted from behind, then gently lowered back down on something soft, inclining him about halfway to a sitting position.

Just as he was forming words of thanks, another presence made itself known. He was shocked to see it was a goblin — and a female goblin, it appeared, which was something he'd never seen before. "Rest easy," she said soothingly. "I thought I should probably examine you before things begin. I'm no healer, and I have no idea if we goblins would have anything that would definitely help you, but it doesn't hurt to check."

The goblin spent the next minute running her hand from his stomach to his head and back, just bare inches above his skin. Finally, she sighed and said, "The report was correct: your condition is quite grave. Well beyond my ability to treat, that much is certain. I regret that I am unable to do anything for you."

"I had thought Madam Pomfrey would be able to heal me," Dumbledore whispered, his voice still rough from the ravages of the potion. "She always has before."

"From what I understand, your school's healer hasn't found a counter to the poison you drank," the goblin responded. "That's why you're here now: it's a last resort." This revelation startled Dumbledore, and as he looked down at his hands, he realized how grey his skin had become.

"It may not do much good if he doesn't get in the right frame of mind," observed the woman who'd given him the pillows.

"That's definitely true," agreed the goblin.

"Right frame of mind?" Dumbledore asked, confused.

Just then a tall, blonde witch walked up and said, "I see you've met our other two guests, Mr. Dumbledore."

"Well, no..." he said.

"Who I am is not important," the female goblin said briskly as she stood up again. "I see that you're getting ready to start soon, so I should leave the circle and join the others."

The blonde witch nodded at her and returned her attention to Dumbledore. "My name is Adrienne. The witch next to you there is Catherine-Rosalie Gerard Duthé."

Dumbledore managed to turn his head and finally saw the woman who had been talking to him. She looked incredibly old, yet at the same time impossibly beautiful as well. "You're both veela," he said. It was a statement, not a question.

"Indeed we are," the older of the two said. "And you may call me Rosalie. It's what I've gone by for most of my life." Dumbledore frowned, thinking that her name pricked at a memory in him somehow, but he couldn't place it.

"It's a pity that you won't be participating in this morning's ritual, Rosalie," Adrienne said, and Dumbledore's eyes bulged.

"Hopefully my presence will be of some small benefit nonetheless," Rosalie said placidly, and Adrienne left to rejoin the others.

"Ritual?" Dumbledore wheezed, feeling panicked.

"Of course," Rosalie answered. "What did you think was going on here?"

"This... is the first I've heard of it," Dumbledore said, swallowing hard. "You must stop — this is much too dangerous. You certainly shouldn't be trying any healing rituals on me." The mere thought of becoming an inferi was making his blood run cold.

He was shocked to hear Roslie laughing. "Dangerous? What makes you think rituals are dangerous, young man?"

"I know that any little misstep — the slightest mistake — can lead to disastrous consequences," Dumbledore said, trying to keep his voice steady. If he'd had the strength, he'd have crawled away from there as fast as he could. _What in Merlin's name was Poppy thinking, bringing me here?_ he wondered. _Has she been put under the Imperius curse?_

"Don't be ridiculous, child," she scolded him. "We veela have been performing these ritual celebrations for thousands of years without any sort of 'disastrous consequences.' Why, the very idea is absurd."

"Ritual celebrations?" he asked, only half listening — mostly he was trying to buy time while he looked around for any means of escape.

"There's no such thing as a misstep in these celebrations," Rosalie said, clearly trying to be patient rather than condescending. "All that matters is the participants' will and intent, just like with any magic. Unlike with wanded incantations, the exact words and pronunciation don't matter. Neither do the exact motions that people make."

Dumbledore blinked at her in surprise when she said this, and she continued, "That's something you need to think very hard about, because if your own will and intent are too opposed to that of the ritual, it's almost certain not to help you."

"I've never heard of any sort of healing ritual like that," Dumbledore confessed, now noticing that the central fire had been lit and all the witches were gathering around it. On the far side, he saw someone he thought he recognized standing next to Poppy... it was...

 _Et tu, Minerva?_ he thought despondently.

"That's because it isn't a healing ritual, silly boy," Rosalie said. "I told you, this is a ritual celebration — a celebration of Eostre, the spring equinox, to be specific. It's a commemoration of a day when darkness and light are in perfect balance, a reminder of the need for balance in our own lives, and a celebration of the time of the year when we will start seeing light triumph over darkness, life over death, and love over hate."

He saw Adrienne begin speaking, but Dumbledore was listening to Rosalie, growing more curious about what she was saying.

"That's why it's also a day for healing," she explained. "It's not that you'll be healed by the ritual itself, but rather that the goddesses will heal you with the magic produced in the ritual."

"The goddesses?" Dumbledore repeated, then hastily shut his eyes when he saw all the women disrobe and stand naked around the fire.

Rosalie chuckled at his embarrassment. "That's what your two students are hoping for, at least," she said.

"St-students?" he gasped as his eyes shot open. "You don't mean...?"

Rosalie simply inclined her head towards a point on the other side of him, and Dumbledore instinctively looked. He almost wished that he hadn't, because he immediately saw Jasmine Potter and Hermione Granger enter the circle naked and begin walking among the other naked witches, handing each of them something to drink. To make matters worse, his futile attempts to stay focused on the figures only from the neck up made him realize that more than one of them were also Hogwarts students.

He wasn't sure what was worse: seeing several of his underage female students naked, or seeing them participate in an unknown magical ritual. _No_ , he thought, _the worst thing is that I can't see any way of putting a stop to this! I had feared that Miss Potter might be connected to people performing magical rituals, but I never imagined that her involvement was this deep!_

"It's not just mistakes that make these rituals dangerous," Dumbledore tried to argue, "but the amount of power they can generate. It's more than anyone can handle. It corrupts those who get too involved — that's why they were suppressed! I can't allow my students to become corrupted by what you're doing!"

In his desperation, he struggled feebly to get up, but he was so weak that the old witch was able to still him with a light touch of her hand on his shoulder. "Foolish boy, where did you ever get such ideas?" she asked as he watched his students finish sharing the drink with the other participants and head towards what he now recognized as an altar. "There is power, yes, but it is power that only does what the goddesses will. The goddesses do not seek corruption or domination, they seek harmony and love. Your two students have achieved immeasurable good with the power they've helped call down."

"Good?"

Rosalie smiled gently. "I'm afraid that isn't my story to tell. I'll just say that your little island here is already much improved due to the efforts of those witches, and if they are able to continue, the land here will be healed to a point that hasn't been seen in millennia." She was silent for a moment before adding, "Look, it's starting."

And Dumbledore could see it. Inside the circle, he saw swirling energy rushing inward from the ground under the witches' feet to the central fire, which kept rising higher. Outside the circle, the wind was moving faster and faster, kicking up enough dust to obscure his view of the surrounding countryside. He couldn't begin to imagine the sort of power that would be required to cause such effects. _Where is it coming from, though?_ he wondered. _And where will it go?_

Jasmine and Hermione had by this point resumed walking around the circle of witches, moving in the opposite direction this time and distributing small handfuls of something. The air seemed to be crackling with energy.

He hardly knew what to say, so he picked something trivial in order to avoid facing the things he couldn't change. "Why do you keep referring to me as young? How old are you, anyway?"

"Young man, don't you know it's rude to ask a woman her age?" she said archly, and he grimaced. "Oh, it's quite alright," she went on. "Let's just say that when you were born, I was already older than you are now."

He looked over at her in shock. It was true that she looked old, but not nearly as old as all that. "I had no idea veela were so long-lived."

She shrugged. "Most aren't. A few in every generation live longer than most wizards and witches. I, however, am the longest lived veela on record — not that it's something we publicize to outsiders," she said pointedly. Dumbledore nodded in understanding.

By this point the wind outside the circle was moving so fast that they appeared to be at the base of a massive tornado, with the flames of the central bonfire piercing its center, stretching too high into the dawn sky to see where they ended. The witches had moved to the edges of the circle and tossed something outward which was carried up into the winds. Inside the circle, Dumbledore could see magic spinning in towards the fire at ever greater speeds.

"What's going to happen?" he asked in a small voice. He'd never, ever wanted to be anywhere near a magical ritual, and now that he was, he was more than a little frightened.

"What do you want to happen?" Rosalie responded, looking at him intently. "Do you wish to be healed?"

"I'm not afraid to die," he insisted.

"That's nice," Rosalie said, "but you shouldn't be afraid to live, either. And there is no need to rush towards death unnecessarily." When he still didn't speak, she shook her head impatiently. "Your healing, if it comes, will be a gift from the goddesses. And like any gift, it can be refused — no one is forcing you to do this. Yet you _must_ put aside your fear and distrust if you are to receive any benefit. The gift of life must be embraced fully; the power of love must be chosen freely. What do you choose?"

Dumbledore looked over at the swirling vortex of magic and the witches ringed around it, then up into the ancient veela's face. After a long moment, he finally said, "I must admit, I would like a little more time to complete the tasks that I know need to be done."

"Then that's what you should focus on, and hope that you find favor with the goddesses," Rosalie said. "You've already found favor with those two remarkable young witches, which is saying a lot."

He looked at her quizzically, so she continued, "To the best of my knowledge — and I've been around for a long time, as I said — you're the first male to be invited inside one of our rituals. I was told that an emergency session of the Theledrion, our ruling council, was called to debate granting you admission to this circle, and it was only because the request came from Miss Potter and Miss Granger that it was even considered. You are so lucky to have such strong supporters in those two."

"What? But how?" he stammered. _I know that I've made some progress in repairing my relationship with them_ , he thought, _but I would never have said that they were "supporters" of me at all, much less "strong" ones. And how in Merlin's name could they have gotten so much influence with the veela leadership?_

"That's a story that they'll have to tell you themselves," she said. She looked up at the ritual again and her eyes brightened. "Ah — here it comes. I've been waiting to see this. In fact," she added softly, "I think maybe I've been waiting my whole life to see this..."

Dumbledore looked back at the ritual, wondering what was so special that this witch, who must have seen hundreds and hundreds of rituals, would be so excited about seeing now. Adrienne had her hands raised high, then brought them down quickly. When she did so, the central bonfire collapsed on itself, sending a wave of magical fire surging outward into the swirling winds.

The combined fire and wind spread over an area 150 kilometers in diameter across central England, covering the land in a blanket of powerful, life-giving magic. This wind also distributed a collection of magical and non-magical seeds, multiplied and enhanced by the ritual, which quickly took root in the land and would soon begin producing a spectacular bounty of magical and non-magical plants.

Dumbledore could not see any of this because as soon as the wave of fire hit him, he lost consciousness. When he became aware of his surroundings again, Poppy Pomfrey was standing above him — dressed again, thankfully — casting diagnostic spells. "Everything looks normal. He's completely healthy," she announced with a smile. This surprised Dumbledore because he knew that none of her diagnostics had reported him as completely healthy since the previous October.

When he thought about it, though, he realized that he did in fact feel surprisingly good. There was no pain. There was no fatigue. He looked down at his hands and saw that they were pink and well-fleshed rather than grey and skeletal. He rose to a sitting position and found that he had no trouble doing so. Even the ache in his lower back that had been plaguing him for years was gone! When he looked up again, Rosalie had already moved away and was speaking to a group of young witches... and in an instant, he realized that they were the Hogwarts students who had participated in the ritual. And with the support of one... no, two Hogwarts professors, to boot!

* * *

"I'm so happy to be meeting all of you," Rosalie said to the group of young English witches. "I've heard about what you are all doing here in Britain and I'm very, very impressed." As she looked from one face to the next, she could see that there was even more potential here than she'd been led to believe. "I think that you will all go on to do great things, if you are able to stick together."

"Why do you say that?" one of them asked her.

"You may not be aware of it, but one of the skills veela are able to develop is the ability to see connections between people — magical, emotional, etc.," Rosalie responded. "Well, 'see' isn't entirely accurate, since it's not something we perceive visually. It's a bit more like music most of the time. Regardless, It's something I am rather good at because of the subjects which I have been studying for many years."

"And you see connections between us?" another asked.

Rosalie nodded. "I can indeed. The strongest, of course, are between Miss Potter and Miss Granger, closely followed by the connections they have with the Delacour sisters. However, there are also thin tendrils connecting all of you to each other. Loyalty. Friendship. Even familial love. Right now the bonds are still fragile because they are relatively young, but they have much potential. If you nurture these connections, if you encourage them, they will help you all become far more than you could ever hope to be on your own."

"I'm afraid I must be getting them all back to the castle now," Professor McGonagall announced. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with them."

"Oh, it was entirely my pleasure," Rosalie said with a wave as the witches stepped away so they could portkey back to Hogwarts. Then she turned to the four who had remained: Jasmine Potter, Hermione Granger, and their two shieldmaidens. "If I'm not mistaken, you two have something to tell me?" she asked. When they looked confused, she added, "A secret, perhaps?"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Um, right," Jasmine said at the same time, and together they chorused, "Hermione Granger and Jasmine Potter share a soul bond."

"Good, good," Rosalie said with a nod. "I strongly suspected something like that, but I needed to hear it from you directly, of course. And you're wondering if this bond, combined with the powerful rituals you have been participating in, could potentially have an effect on someone else's soul containers?"

"I know it seems far-fetched," Jasmine said, "but the timing of certain events has been awfully coincidental."

"Soul magic is not well understood," Rosalie said as she drew her wand. "It is therefore difficult to say what is or is not truly far-fetched." She cast a few spells on both young witches, then focused on Jasmine. "May I see your infamous scar, Miss Potter?" When Jasmine pulled back her bangs, Rosalie said, "It looks rather faded. I don't suppose it was always like that, was it?"

"No," Jasmine replied. "It changed at some point."

"After Samhain," Hermione confirmed. "It started fading very soon after Samhain, in fact."

"I'm not surprised," Rosalie said as she put away her wand, then reached out and gently ran a finger along the scar. "Yes, yes, much as I feared," she said softly, almost to herself.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"It appears that you, or at least your scar, was at some point in close contact with a piece of a foreign soul — and not Miss Granger's, unfortunately."

"You don't mean..." Jasmine said, horrified.

"I don't see any other likely explanation," Rosalie responded.

"So... I was a horcrux? Or still am?" Jasmine asked, her face paling.

"Did I say that?" Rosalie asked. "I'm sure you weren't. It takes a complicated ritual to make a horcrux out of something, and doing that with a living being is a horribly bad idea. No, it was more likely just a soul fragment that attached itself to you, probably leeching some of your magic. It might have even been leeching magic for the main soul piece that still calls itself Voldemort, though that would be difficult to prove. Regardless, it's gone now. I suspect that it was expelled at Samhain."

"I feel... so unclean," Jasmine said, looking ill.

"You should feel lucky," Rosalie corrected her.

"Why would I feel _lucky_ to have had a bit of Voldemort stuck in my head all my life?" Jasmine demanded incredulously.

"Because I suspect that it allowed you to deal a mortal blow against your enemy without ever having to go near him," the ancient veela said. "I said that the fragment might have leeched magic for the main soul piece because all the pieces of a person's soul remain connected to each other — it may be a thin connection, but it's always there. It's the only reason that a horcrux works to anchor a person to the world of the living. It also means that you were connected to all of the actual horcruxes, though those connections would have been the thinnest. And that's what allowed you to affect them."

"But how would that happen?" Hermione asked. "And why?"

"Horcruxes are created by dark, evil magic," Rosalie explained. "And since they require murder to create, they are also founded on death magic. Soul bonds, with their foundation in love, are naturally the exact opposite. On top of that, horcruxes require splitting a single soul, thus weakening it, whereas a soul bond is the blending of two souls, thus strengthening them both. This means that they are essentially toxic to each other — neither of them can long survive in the presence of the other. They would immediately come into conflict, and eventually one would overwhelm the other."

"Neither can live while the other survives," Jasmine whispered.

"That's an odd way to put it," Rosalie said carefully, "but I suppose it's an accurate description. From what you say, your dark lord split his soul several times, making each piece far weaker than if he'd done it once. As a result, your soul bond would have been much, much stronger than any of them. Your bond might have been stronger than even a single horcrux, but this guaranteed it. I'd wager that while your bond was actively developing, you were causing those pieces to suffer... and when you took major steps forward, such as when you were intimate with each other, the suffering would have been intense. That would have been even more true if any intimacy occurred in the context of rituals like this, given the addition of the creative magics of the goddesses which would also have been in opposition to the death magic that is at the heart of a horcrux."

"And that's how they were destroyed?" Hermione asked. "Why they exploded?"

"It's impossible to be certain," Rosalie cautioned them. "There isn't enough precedent to rely on, and for that we should all be thankful. It's certain that the two types of soul magic conflict. It's certain that they came into contact and thus also into conflict through you, Miss Potter, something that probably hasn't ever happened before. It's certain that one would eventually have to vanquish the other, and that your soul bond would eventually be the victor because it was strongest. It's likely that you caused the various soul pieces to suffer whenever the power of your love and your bond was channeled through the connection into those pieces, bypassing whatever magical protections were placed on them. Finally, it's probable that, at times, this would have been enough to destroy them, most likely starting with the weakest."

"I hope they're all destroyed now," Hermione said, "since Jasmine no longer has the connection to them. Otherwise, I don't know how we'll find them or how we'll deal with them if we do find any."

"No direct connection, no," Rosalie agreed, "but the magic of horcruxes will still suffer under the influence of rituals like what you participated in today. If he or any of his horcruxes were close enough to one of these rituals, they would be weakened — and the more the ritual is focused on fertility and love, the greater the impact would be. In fact, I suspect that all dark magic users would suffer somewhat, but those connected most closely with death magic would be harmed the most. I should probably make sure Adrienne is aware of that..."

"That makes sense, I guess," Hermione mused. "Based on what we know, the first explosion was on Beltane, which was the first time Jasmine and I were, uh, sexually intimate. And there were at least two explosions on Samhain, the night we consummated our soul bond."

"You two brought more love into our world," Rosalie observed, "and in the process chased out some of the death and evil that doesn't belong here. I told your headmaster that you two were transforming the land around us, and that's further proof of it."

Jasmine looked thoughtfully off into the distance, then a grin spread across her face. Very quickly, she was bent over double in laughter.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, looking confused.

"Don't you see what this means?" Jasmine said when she caught her breath.

"Voldemort is probably mortal now?" Hermione answered. "We can and should go after him as soon as we can? That's hardly a laughing matter."

Jasmine shook her head and was visibly trying to contain herself. "No, not that. What it means is, for all intents and purposes, you and I will have shagged him to death!"

"Eww!" Hermione exclaimed, horrified. "You take that back! That's sick!" For all her protesting, though, she couldn't get either Jasmine or Rosalie to stop laughing like loons.

Nearby, Dumbledore slowly stood up, marveling at how much fitter and healthier he felt. He looked over at his two students and wondered what one was laughing about so uproariously and why the other was so upset.

* * *

 **Tuesday, March 21, 1996, Late Morning.**

Tonks apparated to a secluded spot near Arbor Low, disillusioned herself, and slowly made her way to the ancient stone circle. She still hated herself for having cast a tracking spell on McGonagall's spectacles just after the Order meeting over the weekend, but she needed to have more proof about what was going on before she could decide what to do — or start accusing people, if that's what her decision ended up being.

Very early this morning she had been alerted to McGonagall leaving the castle, just as she suspected might be the case. She was tempted to come here immediately, but she didn't know what she would find and wasn't prepared for the confrontation that would surely result, especially not alone; so she waited until after everyone had probably left before apparating in.

Once she had arrived at the stone circle and established that it was deserted, Tonks proceeded to run through her detection spells, including finally the one she'd learned from the Black family library. Everything she did confirmed all of her previous findings, except for the presence of what looked like a single male figure, lying down during the ritual. She didn't know what that meant, but she didn't think it mattered since it didn't contradict any of her earlier conclusions.

 _So_ _ **now**_ _what do I do?_ she asked herself helplessly. _Who should I talk to? What do I even say?_


	44. Secret

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "A Boon for Bill" by canoncansodoff. Bill and Fleur want to get engaged. Harry and Hermione want to run off with each other. Working together, the two couples will help each other get what they want.

 **Final Countdown: 10...9...8...7!**

* * *

 **Chapter 44 - Secret**

 **Tuesday, March 21, 1996, Late Afternoon.**

"Miss Granger, Miss Potter, please stay after for a few minutes," Professor McGonagall said as students started packing up at the end of the Transfiguration lesson. Once everyone was gone and the door was silenced and sealed, she said, "I expect that the Headmaster will want to speak to you soon — possibly as early as this evening. Have you given any thought to how you wish to handle it?"

"I think we should wait a couple of days at least," Hermione suggested. "Jasmine and I discussed it, and we decided that at this point we should tell him everything — maybe not every detail, but at least a general overview."

"Though he's not learning about the prophecy without an oath to not interfere," Jasmine said darkly. "Because if there's anyone who would be tempted to meddle, it's him."

McGonagall nodded in agreement. "Those are good points. He should take a few days to come to terms with what he's already learned and experienced anyway. Why don't I suggest to him that he wait until Saturday evening?"

"That sounds perfect," Hermione said.

* * *

 **Tuesday, March 21, 1996, Evening.**

Albus Dumbledore stared at the locket sitting on his desk. It seemed to mock him — him, his arrogance, and all his failures. Not only wasn't it a genuine horcrux, but it was a fake left by Regulus Black to replace what had probably been the first horcrux to self-destruct last year. _All of that effort, and nearly dying, for what?_ he asked himself. _I don't seem to be any closer to putting an end to Voldemort than I was a week ago, though it is nice to at least know that I can cross this off my list._

As much as nearly being killed in order to retrieve a fake horcrux had battered his ego, being not merely healed but actually rejuvenated by an incredibly powerful magical ritual — something he would have earlier decried as dark and dangerous — was even worse. _It was anything but dark_ , he was forced to conclude. _After reviewing my memories in the pensieve and paying attention to what was being done and said around me, there's no denying that everything about the ritual stands in opposition to the dark. And if what that Duthé woman said is correct, it would be difficult for such a ritual to be dangerous, too. Yet I suspect that it was the sort of ritual which Morgana participated in — the sort of ritual which Merlin said corrupted her._

He picked up the locket and began running his thumb across the engraving. _What still bothers me, though, is the sheer amount of power that the ritual was able to call up. I've never heard of_ _ **any**_ _magical ritual that involved so much power — and Duthé indicated that this wasn't the first time. Where exactly is that power going, and what is it doing? Can_ _ **anyone**_ _be trusted with that much power in their hands, especially two witches as young and inexperienced as Miss Potter and Miss Granger? If Merlin was right, the answer to that is no, but was he? What will this mean for the prophecy? And what will it mean for the future of our world?_

Dumbledore looked over at Fawkes and said softly, "Things are definitely not going to plan, my old friend. What's more, I'm honestly not sure if that's good or bad."

Fawkes trilled hopefully, and Dumbledore started in surprise at how much of it he understood.

* * *

 **Wednesday, March 22, 1996, Afternoon.**

"So, he's probably mortal now," Walburga said once Sirius finished reading the long letter which Dobby had delivered earlier that morning.

"There's no way to be sure until someone kills him and he stays dead," Sirius observed, "but it sure looks that way."

"She'll need to strike as soon as is reasonably possible," Walburga said next. "Before he finds out or does something else to protect himself from true death."

"I still don't like the idea of sending a fifteen-year-old witch out to fight one of the worst dark lords Britain has ever had."

"She won't be alone," Walburga pointed out.

"Of course she won't," Sirius agreed, "but having Hermione by her side means that I have twice as many people to worry about! Even with all her friends helping, I have trouble seeing how they'll win."

"Then you need to ensure that she has more resources," Walburga insisted. "Dumbledore is being more cooperative, is he not? Make sure that he is prepared to come to her aid. And what about that Bones woman at the Ministry? You've been feeding her information to cultivate her as a resource — maybe it's time to call that in."

Sirius nodded. "I can do that. We'll also have to make sure all the portraits know to start being more aggressive in gathering intelligence. We definitely can't take the chance that he'll try something that will protect him from the magic which Jasmine and Hermione are using. We can't assume that they'll get that lucky again."

"Any magic that deals with souls is... unpredictable," Walburga said, a haunted look in her eyes.

"Unpredictable or not, I can't begin to say how happy I am to know that Voldemort probably suffered greatly through the connection he had to Jasmine," Sirius said with a grin. "It's sick that something like horcruxes could even exist, and anyone who messes with magic like that deserves to be punished. In fact, I wonder if this is yet another example of the sentience of Magic — that people who defile their own souls like that make Magic angry and suffer because of it."

Walburga started looking uncomfortable and refused to meet Sirius' eyes.

"What is it?" Sirius asked. "Have you thought of something else?"

"No, no," Walburga said quickly. "It's nothing. It's just... you're probably right. People who try to use such magics probably do get punished, one way or another."

"Of course," Sirius declared. "Magic is a part of nature and life, and the one inescapable fact about both is that everything dies. This means that the magic used to create horcruxes is not just an abomination, but contrary to Magic itself. There's no way that Magic would allow the creation of such vile objects to occur without punishment."

Walburga didn't respond to that, but Sirius could tell that something was wrong.

* * *

 **Thursday, March 23, 1996, Morning.**

"Did you see that there was a new Educational Decree?" Ron asked as he dished up some breakfast for himself. "This is number... uh, 109, I think. It says: 'Students who perform prohibited incantations will be subject to severe punishment under Section 28.' I'm not sure what Section 28 is, but I doubt it's pleasant."

"No, I didn't see that one," Hermione said with a scowl. "There are so many of them hanging out there now... it's hard to tell when something has been added."

"Do you suppose that one's aimed at the students who are part of the DA?" Jasmine asked quietly. "There's already a couple of decrees that would apply, but maybe she's trying to find ways to make it easier to catch us."

"We need to know what the 'prohibited incantations' are, first," Neville pointed out. "Maybe it's all about allegedly 'dark' magic and so is only aimed at Jasmine and Hermione?"

"I hadn't thought of that, but you're right," Jasmine said as she looked around, trying to see if Umbridge was hiding anywhere, waiting to leap out at her. "The way she goes on about 'dark magic,' that makes a lot of sense."

* * *

 **Saturday, March 25, 1996, Afternoon.**

Training in mass transfiguration was proceeding well, or at least well enough. Neither Jasmine nor Hermione were able to transfigure more than one large predator at a time, and even then the results still weren't quite up to Professor McGonagall's high standards. Nevertheless, their efforts were looking much better and were capable of attacking effectively.

When working with smaller animals, Jasmine and Hermione had already perfected the mass transfiguration of pebbles into flies. Unfortunately, they were merely annoying at best, which was why they were working hard on being able to do the same for bees. They usually got the physical form correct, but layering in the compulsion charms to attack was proving more challenging, possibly because bees usually weren't very aggressive in the absence of a clear threat.

The one benefit to their slow progress was the fact that they didn't need to leave the castle and go to the secret training area which Professor Flitwick had introduced them to the previous year. Everything they needed to work on could still be done under the guise of "remedial Transfiguration lessons" in the Transfiguration classroom, Professor McGonagall's office, or the Room of Requirement, which meant that there was no risk of being caught by Umbridge in a violation of either school rules or Ministry decrees.

* * *

 **Saturday, March 25, 1996, Early Evening.**

"Before we get started," Jasmine said as soon as she and Hermione were seated in the headmaster's office, "I'd like to say that I'm sorry for not getting your permission before we subjected you to the effects of that ritual celebration. It's just that... well, even if you had been conscious, I knew what you thought about rituals. And while I understood your concerns, I also knew that those concerns didn't apply to the rituals we'd participated in. I didn't know if you being there would help you, but I knew it wouldn't hurt."

Dumbledore remained silent while the young witch struggled to find the words to explain her actions. "And... and I couldn't just sit by and do nothing, not when there was any chance of helping you. I didn't want to watch you die."

The old wizard smiled slightly. Despite how troubled he was by everything that had happened, the one bright, shining beacon was the fact that Miss Potter had been so willing to save him. He was quite certain that a year or even six months ago, she probably wouldn't have crossed the street to help him.

"It's not easy, is it, standing by and watching someone suffer when you know you have the ability to help them?" Dumbledore asked. "Especially when you know that your aid entails doing something that the other person would not approve of, without their consent?"

Both witches' eyes widened slightly at the implications of his words, but before they could respond, he went on, trying to be as conciliatory as possible. "Perhaps it was for the best. I almost certainly wouldn't have agreed, and as a result, I would have perished while holding on tightly to opinions that I now see might need to be revised. Indeed, I have found myself reconsidering quite a few of my opinions lately, usually because of actions you two have taken contrary to, or even in defiance of, my own preferences. As much as that once upset me, it has forced me to defend my decisions in ways that I haven't had to do in decades. I'd become complacent, and you two have shaken me out of that."

Dumbledore paused for a moment and looked carefully at the girls, pleased to find that neither had any hint of the hostile expressions he'd so often seen in recent months. "I won't lie to you: I still have plenty of concerns regarding these rituals you are involved with. Even if they aren't as dangerous as I would have assumed a week ago, that doesn't mean they are a good idea, either. I will, however, try to approach them with an open mind. For your part, you'll need to be as honest with me about them as you can. I understand why you've kept them a secret until now, but that can't continue — if for no other reason than because you are sneaking out of the castle for them."

When they both agreed, he said, "Now, Professor McGonagall informed me that you had more that you needed to tell me and that it was important enough that I should hold off forming any firm opinions until I had a chance to talk to you."

"There are several things, all connected," Jasmine agreed. "Which would you like to hear about first: how we think we've destroyed all of Voldemort's horcruxes already, or how we intend to change the magical world?"

"Either way, we're going to need an oath from you," Hermione added.

Dumbledore gave her a disappointed look. "Do you still have so little trust in me, Miss Granger?"

"Actually, we have a lot more trust in you now than we did before," Hermione answered. "However, some of our secrets aren't entirely _our_ secrets."

"We also don't trust everyone that you trust," Jasmine said. Dumbledore nodded, not needing to be told who it was she meant. Frankly, he was beginning to have his own concerns about the same person.

After a moment's consideration, he gave them his oath, then suggested that they start with the smaller but most immediate concern: horcruxes.

"I learned over the Christmas hols that horcruxes can only be destroyed if all of their magical protections can be overcome," Hermione said. "That's why the strongest magics like fiendfyre or the most deadly substances like basilisk venom are needed. We have since learned that another approach is possible."

"As you told us originally," Jasmine continued, "horcruxes are vile magic, but more important is that they are death magic that can only be created through fear and hate — fear of death and the hate necessary to cause someone else's death. The opposite of that is love."

Dumbledore nodded. "That is similar to a conclusion I had already come to. As you know, the prophecy describes 'one with the power the Dark Lord knows not.' It would be difficult to identify any branch of magic which Voldemort is unfamiliar with. However, there is one thing he seems to be not only ignorant but also disdainful of: love."

"And you thought that love might somehow be the power that Jasmine could use to defeat Voldemort?" Hermione asked. When Dumbledore nodded, Hermione shook her head ruefully. "Under any other circumstances, I'd have laughed and called you crazy. Now, though, I'm almost embarrassed to admit that such a sappy interpretation might actually be correct."

In response to Dumbledore's quizzical expression, Jasmine said, "Horcruxes aren't just vile death magic, they are also soul magic. There exists another form of soul magic which involves pure love: soul bonds. They are the opposite of horcruxes in many important ways, and as a result they are also effectively toxic to them."

Dumbledore frowned. "Very little is known about soul bonds — I've never been able to find out much about them. Regardless, I don't see how that... how one... I mean..." He didn't understand why he suddenly found himself completely tongue-tied, and grew even more confused when both young witches smiled knowingly at him.

They then joined hands and said in unison, "Jasmine Dorea Potter and Hermione Jean Granger share a soul bond."

Suddenly, everything clicked for him — the abrupt, unexpected understanding of the two witches' soul bond caused so many curious behaviors, statements, and choices to fall into place and make perfect sense. It was as if he'd been walking around for the past year and a half wearing dark sunglasses that obscured everything, and now they'd been removed, revealing colors and shapes that he'd never noticed.

"Oh, my... You... you two have a soul bond?" Dumbledore asked slowly. "And that bond... destroyed Voldemort's horcruxes?"

"Apparently I had some bit of his soul attached to me," Jasmine said as she pointed to the nearly faded scar on her forehead. "This created a connection to him as well as all the pieces of his soul. That must be why my scar hurt when I was near him."

"Surely you must have suspected," Hermione said with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, I'm sorry to say that I did," Dumbledore admitted, his mind still whirling over what he was hearing. "In fact, I feared that it was an accidental horcrux, created because Miss Potter was the only living thing left in the room after Voldemort's body was destroyed."

"That shouldn't have been possible," Hermione said. "Horcruxes can't be created easily or accidentally. It takes a lot of work to prepare an object to become one."

"How would you—"

"You didn't want us to know much about the subject," Jasmine interrupted, "but since they were critical to defeating Voldemort, we simply didn't take no for an answer. You keep too much important information hidden from others who need it."

"You have to properly prepare the target vessel," Hermione continued, "otherwise the soul fragment will simply return to you because the separation is so unnatural. What's more, if anything could become a horcrux, even accidentally and without preparation, how would you direct the soul fragment where to go? How would you prevent it from latching onto a spoon or used tissue?"

Dumbledore grimaced at her choice of examples, but couldn't deny that she had a valid argument. "So Miss Potter wasn't a horcrux, but still had a soul fragment attached to her?"

"This was probably a unique situation," Hermione answered, "so it's impossible to know for sure what exactly was going on; but since she didn't go through the proper preparations, she wouldn't have been able to truly anchor him to our world. So, she wasn't quite a horcrux. But she did have a bit of his soul attached to her — enough to create a connection, since every piece of a soul always retains its connection to all the others. It might have been enough of one for Voldemort himself to leech power from her, but definitely enough for her to affect all the other soul pieces."

"And you believe that your bond somehow destroyed them?" Dumbledore asked.

The two witches joined hands again as Jasmine said, "We think that our love destroyed them. Our bond was why our love was strong enough to do that when it was transmitted through my connection to them. Based on what we've learned, we believe that the consummation of our bond on Samhain caused at least two horcruxes to explode as well as my scar to finally start fading, so we are hopeful that all remaining horcruxes were destroyed then."

"Given how little is known about soul bonds, I wouldn't be surprised if that was as good of a candidate for 'the power he knows not' as love itself," Hermione observed.

"Your love..." Dumbledore said slowly. "As happy as I am to find that something so pure and good may be responsible for making Voldemort mortal, I fear that it will not be accepted in our society. You have no real hope of taking such a relationship public without suffering tremendous backlash." He couldn't help but be reminded of choices he'd made in his own past — choices he'd long regretted and usually avoided thinking about.

"We intend to work on changing that," Jasmine said firmly.

"You did mention something about changing the magical world," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "I take it that this is what you were referring to? What is it that you intend to do?"

"The answer to that requires a separate oath," Hermione said. "It's not enough to promise that you won't reveal this; you have to promise not to meddle."

"Miss Granger, I can't simply give a student a blanket oath to never interfere in anything they will be doing," Dumbledore protested.

"This involves a prophecy," Jasmine explained, "a different prophecy from the one you told us about. We've been told that when people presume to interfere with prophecies — whether to thwart them or to direct them to some outcome that they favor — it turns out badly for everyone. We simply need to be assured that you won't knowingly try to prevent the changes the prophecy describes, or even just interfere to make those changes more palatable to you."

Dumbledore frowned deeply and considered his options. _They believe themselves to be subjects of another prophecy, one which involves significant changes in magical society — changes which would somehow cause their relationship to be accepted, perhaps. Yet I've spent much of my life and political career trying to preserve our culture for future generations._

"One thing I cannot do," he said carefully, "is stand idly by if I believe that dark wizards... or witches... are seeking control of magical society. I would also find it difficult to not get involved if I saw unnecessary violence being committed, even in the pursuit of ostensibly good goals."

"As far as we're concerned, our intentions are no more dark than the ritual you saw," Jasmine said. "Whether _others_ label our goals as dark or not is out of our hands; but if you don't consider the ritual to be dark, then you shouldn't consider our goals to be dark."

"And as for violence," Hermione continued, "we can't promise that there won't be any. Major social changes rarely occur without some resistance, and we anticipate that some of those who object to our changes will resist violently. We won't resort to violence first, and we won't use it to force changes on others, but we expect that at times we'll have to use violence to defend ourselves or others."

"You seem to have taken at least some of my concerns regarding violence to heart," Dumbledore said hopefully, and when the girls nodded, he continued, "Very well, I think I can accept such assurances and make an oath to not knowingly interfere with the prophecy — though with the proviso that it not include a complete prohibition against me arguing for certain ideas or approaches."

Neither witch had a problem with that, and in short order so many of Dumbledore's assumptions and expectations came crashing down as he learned about the veela prophecy and what it likely meant. _When I kept hoping that Miss Potter would become a leader of our society for the coming century, this wasn't at all what I had in mind_ , he thought as he leaned back in his chair and removed his spectacles. _I expected her to help preserve our way of life, not change it completely!_

"Are you sure that such... sweeping changes are wise?" he asked. "Not everyone will accept them. You're right that there will be resistance."

"Change is inevitable," Hermione observed. "Without change, there is only stagnation and death. It's just a question of who benefits from the changes that happen."

"Obviously there were earlier changes that brought us to where we are now — changes that weren't all for the better," Jasmine said. "It can't be any healthier to suppress the feminine aspect of magic than it would be to suppress the feminine aspect of humanity. Or of nature generally. We expect to restore ideas and practices that were lost or taken away, not impose new things that never existed before."

"But can you be sure that your changes will improve our world?" Dumbledore asked, now regretting his oath because he was horrified at the idea of magical traditions and practices he knew so well just falling away.

"If prophecies are sent to us by Magic itself," Hermione said, "then how could you argue that the broad goals _wouldn't_ be improvements? It wouldn't surprise me if Magic somehow recognized that we're heading in a dangerous direction and is trying to get us to turn around before it's too late. I'll grant that not all of our specific ideas may necessarily be great, but so far what we're doing is definitely improving the world — both muggle and magical, in fact." She then went on to explain what she knew about how the rituals were creating massive improvements in the health of the surrounding ecosystems, and further explained her conclusions about how a strict enforcement of the Statute of Secrecy might end up killing off the entire magical world in the long run.

Needless to say, Dumbledore was thunderstruck — not merely that these two were at the center of doing so much good, but that they had even done it right on his doorstep without him ever having noticed. _Clearly I need to get out of my office and look around a little more_ , he considered, _starting with the Forbidden... well, with the Forest._

"Right now, the magical world is sick," Jasmine announced. "It's too insular, the space for it is shrinking, there's too much inbreeding, there's not enough innovation, there are regular dark lords... I don't know how much of this is tied directly or indirectly to the problems we intend to fix, but I'm sure some is."

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "As much as I want to preserve the society I've grown up and lived in, I cannot deny that there are problems... perhaps more than I've cared to admit. I also have to admit that I've been unable to come up with solutions to those problems within the framework of the traditions and practices I wish to defend. This, though... this is so much to take in. It was difficult enough to come to terms with the small revolution you started here in the school, but now you're talking about going even further — and with our entire society, too."

"Our friends are more responsible for what happened here last term than we were," Jasmine pointed out, "but they were taking their lead from us, even if we didn't know at the time that we were leading them in that direction. I guess it won't come as any surprise that they are fully behind us in the wider changes we want to make. I think that shows that there was already an underlying desire for those sorts of changes. People have simply lacked inspiration and leadership."

"I will have to think about what you've said here," the Headmaster said slowly. "I honestly don't know how supportive I can be, though I will hold to my oath not to knowingly interfere. For now, though, we should probably focus on Voldemort." Neither of the girls could hide their disappointment at the lack of immediate support from him, but neither did they look surprised.

"We're training regularly so we can be ready to fight him whenever he shows himself in public," Jasmine said. "We need to get rid of him before he finds a way to prevent his own death again."

"I completely agree," Dumbledore replied. "We need for him to either feel that it's safe to expose himself, or, more likely, have bait that is tempting enough that he thinks it's worth the risk."

"Something at either the Ministry or Hogwarts?" Hermione suggested. "We know he must be planning some sort of attack on one or the other."

"That's probably true," Dumbledore agreed. "And as I'm sure Sirius told you, an attack on the school seems to be in the works. If it happens, it could be catastrophic, but we must be prepared. I will of course do what I can to help you two, as well as ensure that the students are kept safe."

* * *

 **Sunday, March 26, 1996, Morning.**

"Thank you for seeing me like this," Tonks said as she sat at her boss' breakfast table, fidgeting a bit under the older witch's hard stare.

"Normally I wouldn't," Amelia Bones answered. "Normally I'd probably have a junior auror reprimanded for trying to see me at home so early on a Sunday morning. However, I happen to know that you've been working on an unusual case, so I'm willing to make allowances. _Small_ allowances."

Tonks gulped audibly and her hair shifted to a washed-out brown. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

"Now why don't you get to the point."

"Yes, ma'am," Tonks responded. "I, uh... I'm sorry, it's just that this is difficult for me to explain."

"Try starting from the beginning," Bones said dryly. "I find that usually works."

Tonks took that as an order and explained the course of her investigation, running through the information she'd slowly gathered right up to her unexpected discoveries in the Forbidden Forest while disguised as Minerva McGonagall.

"That... well, I can understand why you came to meet with me like this, Tonks," Bones said finally. Tonks gave a silent sigh of relief and her hair slowly shifted back to her preferred bubble-gum pink, recognizing the use of her name instead of her job title as a sign that she was no longer in danger of being chewed out.

"Given how little you had to work with," Bones continued, "I'm impressed with how much you were ultimately able to discover... impressed enough that I'm going to completely ignore how you glossed over what sorts of detection spells you used." Tonks' hair almost instantly collapsed back to a limp, mousey brown. "Don't worry," her boss assured her, "you can leave it out of your written report, too. You got good results. Right now, I'm much more worried about what McGonagall is up to."

"If you don't mind my saying, ma'am," Tonks put in hesitantly, "I'm certain she isn't in any way helping You-Know-Who or any other dark wizards or witches. I may not have been in Gryffindor, but I looked up to her while I was in Hogwarts. Still do. She's... she's a good witch."

"I know she is," Bones conceded, "which makes this even more mysterious. We don't have any indication that any actual crimes have been committed, but we can be pretty sure that whatever is going on wouldn't get Ministry approval, either. Also, whatever is going on seems to be _helping_ the surrounding areas — even to the point of making the centaurs friendly, which is unheard of." Her eyes narrowed slightly before asking, "You haven't mentioned this case to anyone else, have you?"

"No ma'am!" Tonks insisted. "I gave Auror Scrimgeour an oath to not talk to anyone but him or you about this!"

"Good." Bones removed her monocle and cleaned it while considering the situation, then said at last, "Auror Tonks (and I do mean that — you're no longer a Junior Auror as far as I'm concerned), you're to continue your investigations as you have been. I recommend plenty of caution, just so we don't alert anyone that we might know what's going on. I also recommend investigating other powerful magical sites around Britain — sites outside direct Ministry control, obviously. You're authorized for whatever overtime you need because I know there are a lot of places to look at."

"What about McGonagall, ma'am?" Tonks asked as she sat a little straighter.

"Don't worry about her," Bones replied. "I'll approach her, or maybe Dumbledore. First, though, I'll wait for you to submit a report on the current status of past and possible future ritual sites. I don't want to go into such a meeting without all the information I can get."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore stood disillusioned in a corner of the Room of Requirement, watching a small group of students go through intense training in magical defense and offense. When Jasmine Potter had mentioned the previous evening that she and others trained every Sunday morning, he'd been eager to see what they were doing. He hadn't expected to be as impressed as he was.

The clothing they wore — especially the witches — was quite a bit more revealing than he was accustomed to, and he was sorely tempted to become visible and chastise them for wearing such things in front of wizards. Yet he held his tongue and soon realized how much easier it was for them to move and dodge. Of all the things he'd started rethinking in recent days and weeks, the value of wizarding robes was perhaps the most surprising.

Once he managed to ignore what he perceived as their state of undress, he was able to focus on how fit, strong, and fast they all were — again, especially the witches. _Clearly Miss Granger's and Miss Potter's comments about how the rituals have affected the participants was no exaggeration_ , he considered. _The fact that they are much fitter and more developed than the male students is obvious._

Dumbledore watched them all for a while, making careful observations about not only their skills, but also the nature of the training Fleur and Gabrielle were putting them through. _I think both Alastor and I underestimated just how skilled my Defense professor is_ , he realized. _Given how young these two are, I'm sure that I'm not seeing the full extent of how dangerous a veela can be. I wonder what else the veela are hiding in their enclaves, and what they expect to get out of the fulfillment of that prophecy._

As he turned to leave, he began working on plans to increase the castle's defenses, though he wasn't sure how much he'd be able to accomplish without the Chief Inquisitor getting suspicious.

* * *

 **Sunday, March 26, 1996, Afternoon.**

"You're the second person today who's wanted to do business with me at home," Amelia Bones said, quite displeased at how her day off kept being interrupted. "So this had better be good."

Sirius gulped. "Ah, sorry about that. If I'd known I'd... well, honestly I wouldn't have acted any differently. This is too important."

"In that case, you'd better start talking," Bones said as she crossed her arms and waited.

"You may or may not have noticed that Voldemort has an unhealthy interest in my goddaughter," Sirius began. "Well, I've received intelligence that this is far more than just appearance. He's obsessed with her — and in particular, with killing her. He regards her as his greatest failure, not to mention the reason why he was reduced to a wraith of some sort for so many years."

Bones nodded. "Not surprising."

"He has plans to go after her — that's certain, not just an educated guess," Sirius continued. "Where exactly he intends to strike is still a mystery, but Hogwarts seems to be the most likely target."

Bones nodded again. "Also not surprising, since that's where she spends the most time. It's a target he'd probably want to go after anyway, though I'm not sure how wise that would be so long as Dumbledore is there. Isn't he the one you should be telling this, though?"

"Oh, he knows," Sirius assured her. "I'm telling you because I'm hoping to get your assistance for whenever Voldemort attacks."

"I can't station aurors in Hogwarts," Bones said immediately. "A protection detail is theoretically possible, but not so long as Fudge is in charge."

"Of course," Sirius said. "I was thinking more along the lines of some way for her to call you for help. That way she can get support regardless of whether she's attacked in Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, or wherever."

Bones looked at Sirius carefully and thought about his request. _It's not unreasonable_ , she considered. _But more importantly, it might fit in perfectly with what I'm already doing._

"Alright," she said after a long silence. "I have a couple of ideas of how we could make that work. Give me a day or two to see what I can come up with."

* * *

 **Sunday, March 26, 1996, Evening.**

"Severus, come in. Thank you for joining me," Dumbledore said as the Potions professor entered his office.

"You are... looking much better, Headmaster," Snape said as he sat.

"Thank you. I feel much better," Dumbledore responded. "Poppy was made aware of a new treatment that she helped me get. I'm afraid that I don't understand it well myself, but it has worked. Speaking of health, how has Voldemort been doing?"

"No more bouts of pain or weakness, not since shortly after Halloween last year."

"That was when his familiar died, was it not?" Dumbledore asked, tightly controlling his expression.

"Correct," Snape said, clearly uncomfortable with remembering the days that followed both Voldemort and Nagini falling unconscious.

"Is he as strong as he once was?"

"That... is more difficult to say," Snape replied. "I suspect not, because he seems to avoid casting spells in situations where I would have expected him to do so. It's not too obvious, but I've been paying close attention ever since you first asked me about it. However, I have no direct evidence one way or the other."

Dumbledore nodded, unsurprised by this answer. "And what do you know about his plans? It's clear that he is planning some sort of attack somewhere, but do you have any information on what his primary target might be?"

Snape frowned. "I'm sorry, but no. I'm not among those involved in the plans, whatever they are. As you know, I haven't even been informed about what exactly Nott is doing, except that it seems to include killing or incapacitating you. I'm sure that's not all, but he refuses to confide in me."

"It would seem that the castle is the target, does it not?" Dumbledore suggested.

"That is a likely explanation," Snape admitted, "but I haven't seen or heard anything specific that would point to the castle as a target for assault. I can't imagine that the building diagrams they were studying several months ago were of Hogwarts. It's unlikely that he would risk attacking Hogwarts so long as you are here, but that may be why he has tasked Nott with trying to kill you. Of course, that assumes he believes Nott will be successful."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "It is indeed a mystery, which is why it's imperative that you find out more if you can."

"My position—"

"I understand," Dumbledore interrupted. "I don't wish to put you in any unnecessary danger. However, if we know where he is going to strike, we might be able to be sufficiently prepared to put an end to him once and for all."

"Are you certain?" Snape asked intently, surprise and hope cracking his normally blank expression.

"It is difficult to be absolutely certain, I'm afraid, but right now I am more optimistic than I have been in a very, very long time. Our chances will be increased if we can be prepared."

"Very well, Headmaster," Snape responded. "I will do what I can."

Snape left the Headmaster's office shortly thereafter, and Dumbledore was left to consider the choices his spy might end up making.

* * *

 **Monday, March 27, 1996, Evening.**

"So, how did it go today?" Sharpaxe asked as he and Earchewer shared a bottle of brandy.

"Better than I expected," Earchewer said. "The gossiping is as heavy as ever, but now that our people here know the truth — or at least the basics — most of the wildest stories have been dispensed with."

Sharpaxe had convinced the rest of the Bet Bel that it would be better to begin releasing at least some of the truth to the nation, lest rumors get out of control. However, they insisted that he begin with the London branch of Gringotts in order to gauge how the truth would be received. Upper management had been briefed that morning and instructed on what to tell their subordinates; all day the news had been trickling down, and by now everyone should have been informed.

"Most?"

Earchewer shrugged. "Frankly, the full truth is wilder than most of the rumors were, so telling them the basics won't change as much as you might have hoped."

"Do you think this will change how the witches are treated on the bank floor?" Sharpaxe asked.

"Not much," Earchewer said as he shook his head. "I had already given instructions to treat those two well. I'm more worried about potential fanatics."

"Oh?"

"You probably don't see it in the capital," Earchewer explained, "but living out here past the edges of civilization, stuck in the midst of humans and even working alongside them sometimes... it causes some to become a bit zealous in their adherence to our culture and traditions. It's a way of holding on to one's identity as a goblin, but it's easily taken too far."

"And I guess this includes devotion to the Goddess," Sharpaxe said, seeing but not liking where this was going.

Earchewer nodded. "Taken far enough, they become intolerant even of the variations that are common among our people. I'm not sure how such goblins might react to even the possibility of two human witches becoming vessels for alleged goddesses."

"Put together a trusted security detail together, ready to go to the main banking floor just in case they come in," Sharpaxe ordered. "We can't take a chance on anything happening to them here, and certainly not at the hands of a fanatical goblin."

"Already working on it," Earchewer responded as he sipped his brandy. "I expect to have a list of names tomorrow."

"Good work," Sharpaxe said, thinking about what he'd need to write in a report on this for the Queen, the Bet Bel, and especially for the High Priestess. "I'll want any and all information you have on this phenomenon," he added. "You're right that I haven't heard about it before, but it's clearly something we're going to have to address."


	45. One Way Or Another

**A/N** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation** This chapter's recommended fic is "Who Will Fill a Coward's Grave?" by robst. After fourth year, Hermione is determined that Harry will not be left completely alone and isolated with the Dursleys, no matter what Dumbledore says. Soon everything changes. H/Hr.

 **Final Countdown: 10...9...8...7...6!**

* * *

 **Chapter 45 - One Way Or Another**

 **Tuesday, March 28, 1996, Evening.**

"Did everyone get their tunics?" Hermione asked once they'd gathered at their usual table in the library. "Are you all wearing them?" The tunics had just come in yesterday, and the study group members were all stunned by the gift since Hermione and Jasmine had kept the harvesting of the basilisk and enchanting of its remains a secret.

"Yes," Padma said as she ran her fingers under her school cloak. "This is absolutely amazing. I had no idea that any sort of material could be enchanted like this, let alone something already as magical as basilisk hide!"

"If you don't mind my asking, how much did these cost?" Daphne asked.

"It cost zem nothing," Gabrielle answered. "Ze veela created and enchanted it all for free for Jasmine, Hermione, and zeir friends."

"That was really generous of you — of all of you," Daphne said, turning to include all three girls in her statement. "This is a phenomenal gift."

"You're our friends," Jasmine replied. "Because of your support of us and because of the plans we have, you're likely to be in danger again. We can't prevent that, but we do want to provide whatever protection we can."

"These tunics will certainly do it," Susan observed. "I don't know of anything that would provide the sort of protection that these will. Not even the top aurors wear anything this good."

"Thank you!" Hannah exclaimed. "Thank you so much for these. They make me feel safer."

"Well, I have something else for everyone, too," Hermione announced, pulling out a stack of S.P.E.W. buttons.

"But we already have buttons," Daphne protested, conveniently failing to mention that she and the others tried to avoid carrying them around.

"These are different," Hermione insisted. "I've put a Protean charm on them that will allow any of us to call in help from the others. If you hold it tight in your hand, warming it up, the others will grow warm and vibrate as an alert. They'll also be able to lead others to you. If you scratch in a message on the back, all the others will show that message."

"Wow, that's complicated spellwork," Padma said as she took her button. "How long did it take you?"

"I ruined quite a few as I was working it out," Hermione admitted. "But once I figured out how to do it, it only took a couple of days to get them all spelled."

"I'll definitely keep mine close, thanks," Hannah said, pinning her button inside her robe along with everyone else.

* * *

 **Thursday, March 30, 1996, Morning.**

"What is it this time?" Jasmine asked as Hermione read the latest Educational Decree to be posted outside the Great Hall.

"All magical objects must be turned over to the Chief Inquisitor for safekeeping," Hermione said as she read Educational Decree Number Thirty-Nine aloud. "Students who fail to do so will be expelled. Any students caught casting recreational spells will have their wands confiscated."

"That could be a problem," Neville pointed out. "That would apply to our tunics. Even our buttons."

"What isn't magical around here?" Hermione asked. "Some quills and parchment, I'm sure, but what about our wands? Photographs?"

"It would be bad enough if she simply wanted to _inspect a_ ll magical objects — that would take forever," Neville said as they walked in to breakfast. "But that decree says that she intends to _keep_ them all. It's absurd!"

"Hopefully someone will tell her that," Jasmine said, "though I shudder to think of what sort of 'improved' version she might come up with. Especially since it's a good bet that she's targeting us."

* * *

 **Friday, March 31, 1996, Late Morning.**

"I don't care, Ron, I'm sick of this!" Lavender's loud voice caused everyone else in the common room to stop whatever they were doing as they looked to the portrait door.

"Can't you give me a chance?" Ron pleaded as he walked in behind her.

"I already did, though I didn't tell you," Lavender retorted. "For a month now I've been trying to give you space and not push you like I was before. But instead of working on our relationship, you've just remained distant. Half the time it's like we aren't even dating at all!"

"What?" Ron asked. "How?"

"I can't believe you!" Lavender shouted, turning back to face her now-ex-boyfriend. "We talked about this! I told you that you were becoming too distant. I told you that you needed to spend more time with me if we were going to have a real relationship. Weren't you even listening?"

"But... I didn't think that it was so serious," Ron protested.

"Ugh!" Lavender exclaimed, clearly at the end of her rope. "You're a nice guy, Ron, and fun to be around... when you're around, at least. But this isn't working. I need someone who is committed — someone who will be there for me without my having to ask it. Right now, that's just not you."

Lavender stalked up to the girls' dorm, quickly followed by several other witches, while Ron just stood in the common room, dumbfounded.

Jasmine and Hermione were at a loss, unsure of what to do. After a long moment, Hermione went upstairs to sit with Lavender while Jasmine stayed with Ron. They were friends with both and wanted to show support to each without alienating the other.

Taking his arm, Jasmine led Ron over to a couch and sat down with him. She didn't say anything or try to press, she simply sat and waited for him.

"I think I really buggered that up," he finally said.

"Maybe," Jasmine conceded. "But muggles have a saying: 'It takes two to tango.' What that means is that in some situations, two people share responsibility for what's going on. Whatever mistakes may have been made, it isn't necessarily the case that you were the only one making them."

"I guess, but... well, she's been awfully clingy," Ron said. "She's been like that for a while. At first I liked the attention, but over time it got to be too much. I didn't have enough time alone. And then, after Christmas..."

Jasmine didn't need to be told what he meant, and she'd been wondering how he was dealing with the loss of his father. "I don't mean to pry, and tell me to bugger off if this is too personal, but... well, have you talked to anyone about what happened?"

Ron frowned. "Talked? What do you mean?"

"You know, about how you're feeling."

"Why would I do that?" Ron said angrily, crossing his arms and looking away from her. "It sucks. It's horrible. What else is there to say?"

Jasmine sighed, disheartened at how accurate her fears had been. The question was, what was she going to do about it?

* * *

On Old Compton Street in Soho, London, many residents and shoppers paused when they saw that a recently-vacated building had been occupied seemingly overnight. The name over the front door said, "Foundation for Equality," and a poster hanging in a front window described the organization's purpose as advocating for greater social, political, and legal equality for gays and lesbians in Britain, including especially equality in marriage, a goal which many thought incredibly ambitious.

Created by two unassuming dentists from Crawley who also held leadership roles on the board of directors, the Foundation for Equality was officially funded by donations from individuals who supported the group's goals. Unofficially, it was massive funding from the veela which made the group a powerhouse that would pay for advertising, research, and lobbying at all levels of British society... and soon throughout continental Europe as well. No one ever suspected because of the expert magical and financial assistance of the goblins, who also contributed their own funding.

It wouldn't be long before they were opening branch offices across Britain and Europe, offering legal aid to gays and lesbians to deal with the various acts of discrimination the organization was working to eliminate.

* * *

 **Saturday, April 1, 1996, Morning.**

"Ah, Minerva, I didn't expect to see you here this morning."

Tonks spun around and almost drew her wand before she realized that Albus bloody Dumbledore was walking up behind her. _I was certain that I would be safe this early!_ she berated herself. _I should have come back when classes were in session instead!_

"Oh, I, uh, thought I would check to see how the forest was doing," she responded, trying desperately to pull herself together so she didn't give herself away.

"Indeed?" Dumbledore asked with twinkling eyes. "What a delightful coincidence. I am here this morning for the very same reason. Perhaps you'll allow me to accompany you?"

"Of course, yes," Tonks replied. "I'd, uh, be happy for the company, Head... uh, Albus."

"Wonderful!" he said, looking around at the lush greenery of the forest. "Where should we head to first?"

"I hadn't decided," Tonks said hesitantly, wishing she had a good excuse to separate. Or apparate.

"Well, this direction looks like it will be interesting," Dumbledore announced and started off on a course that Tonks knew would take him to the ritual circle. Not knowing what else to do, she hurried to catch up to the wizard, who was unexpectedly nimble, given his age and what she'd heard about his injuries last year.

 _How in Merlin's name does McGonagall get around in these old-fashioned robes?_ Tonks wondered as she repeatedly stumbled in her effort to keep up.

"The Forbidden Forest doesn't look nearly so dangerous and foreboding anymore, does it?" the headmaster asked.

"No, no it doesn't," Tonks answered, noting that everything was continuing to flourish.

"I must confess, it's looking far better than I'd imagined."

 _Does he know about the rituals?_ she thought. _Maybe this is a good opportunity..._

"Do you think the changes are permanent now?" Tonks asked, looking for an angle that wouldn't arouse suspicion. "I'd hate to see the forest go back to what it was."

"It's hard to say," Dumbledore mused. "I also hope that these changes are here to stay, but only time will tell if that will be so. If they are, we'll have have to change the forest's name, though that will make my traditional warning at the Opening Feast a little less impressive." Every once in awhile he stopped to examine some plant or flower more closely, but Tonks never came up with another question to ask. She didn't know if Dumbledore knew what McGonagall knew, and she didn't want to let him know that she didn't know as much as she should know, otherwise he'd know... _and this is why undercover work always give me a headache,_ she groused.

Once they reached the ritual circle, Dumbledore stopped and looked around at it for a long time, taking in the view as if it was the first time he'd ever seen a forest like that. Tonks was so focused on Dumbledore that she didn't hear the centaur approaching until he was almost right behind her.

"Headmaster, Professor," he said in greeting. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, thank you," Dumbledore responded. "I wanted to see for myself all the changes that have occurred here in the forest. I've been remiss in not visiting sooner, and I regret that greatly now."

"We are pleased with it as well," the centaur said. "We look forward to when another ritual can be held on this site."

"Do you?" Dumbledore asked, turning around and looking at Tonks. "And what say you to that, Minerva? Will you and the others be holding another ritual here any time soon?"

Tonks could feel the stare of the centaur from above and behind her, but she was transfixed by Dumbledore's twinkling gaze. "I, uh, I'm really not sure," she stammered. "I... I haven't had a chance to, uh... decide?"

"Indeed?" Dumbledore responded. "There are so many options, I suppose that's not surprising. I wouldn't wait too long, though. These things take time to plan."

"Y-yes, you're right," Tonks said. "In fact, I should probably get back and work on that right now. If you don't need me, that is?"

"No, no, that's quite alright," Dumbledore replied with an airy wave in her direction. "I'll see you later back at the castle."

"Right, definitely," Tonks said as she turned and quickly made her way back to the edge of the forest, stumbling several times along the way. Once there, she dispensed with any further attempts at subtlety and immediately apparated to Diagon Alley, then to her apartment, where she finally morphed back into her normal body and transfigured her clothing into something more comfortable.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed aloud. "I can't believe I got away with that!" She dropped heavily onto her couch, feeling something odd in a back pocket when she did so. She groped around and pulled out a folded piece of parchment which she didn't recognize. When she unfolded it, a sherbet lemon fell out, and she found a message written in neat, loopy script:

 _Nymphadora,_

 _Have Amelia contact me to set up a meeting about this._

 _\- A.P.W.B.D._

"Shite!"

* * *

"Ron, get our brothers," Ginny ordered as she, Jasmine, and Hermione walked through the common room.

"Wha—?" Ron asked, bewildered.

"Just get them," Hermione said, following along closely behind Ginny while carrying a large object in a cloth bag. The three witches immediately headed up the stairs while Ron got the twins, and they all met in the seventh-year boys' dorm.

"Not that we mind having beautiful witches in our room," the first twin said.

"But two of you are more like sisters to us," the second said.

"And one of you is definitely like a sister to us," the first added.

"Making this all kinds of awkward," they said in unison.

"Ugh!" Ron exclaimed, making a face at his brothers. "I did **not** need that image going through my mind!"

"Don't blame us for your dirty mind," the second twin said with a shrug.

"Oi!" Ginny cried. "This is serious."

"We've noticed that you boys have been... well, that you haven't been doing so well these last three months," Hermione said. "And, being boys, we figured that you've been 'dealing' with things by trying to act like nothing's wrong. By trying to maintain a calm, cool facade. Am I right?"

All three of the Weasley boys shuffled uncomfortably, but didn't say anything.

"Right, we'll take that as a yes," Jasmine said. "Fortunately, we have a means for helping you." As she spoke, Hermione pulled a magical portrait out of the cloth bag. "Meet Elladora Black, a mind healer in her day who has been helping Sirius deal with the effects of Azkaban and the Dementors. She's also been helping all of our friends who were attacked at the end of hols."

"Hello, boys," Elladora said with a wave of her hand.

"Helping?" Ron asked. "How? She's just a portrait."

"Ronald, manners!" Hermione snapped. "She's a mind healer, so she has a lot of experience with talking to people about their problems. She can't use magic to help people anymore, but she can still assist them in working through their issues."

"Listen, it helps," Ginny said, trying to prevent Ron from putting his foot in it again. "Not only have I seen how much it helps others, but... well, it's helped me. I talk to her regularly, just like others in the study group do, and it gets a little better every day. When I asked her about helping you three as well, she agreed."

"We've had her hanging in our dorm since we returned from hols," Jasmine said. "We'll leave her here this weekend, then bring her back every few days for an evening or a day. You can't tell anyone about her, though, because she's not an official part of the castle. It's also technically a violation of privacy to have a portrait in a dorm, so you'll need to get Lee's explicit permission to have her here for long. That was one of McGonagall's conditions for allowing us to have her in our dorm."

"It's a pity that Mum moved in with Auntie Muriel," Ginny observed. "If she'd stayed with Sirius, then she could get help this way too. I'm not sure if living with Muriel will end up doing much good for her."

"Has she decided whether to rebuild the Burrow?" Jasmine asked.

Ginny shook her head. "No. I suspect she tries to avoid thinking about it."

Hermione hung the portrait in an out-of-the-way spot, and Elladora nodded her approval. As the girls quietly left, she said, "I think it would be easiest to talk to all three of you together, just to start. Then one at a time. I don't want you to feel any pressure or obligations here — this time to talk is for you, not for me. It's to help you unload some of the things you are feeling. The more you tell me, though, the easier it will be for me to help you deal with those feelings."

"Does it ever go away?" one of the twins asked quietly. "The pain, I mean?"

Elladora looked back at him with sympathy. "We never stop missing those who have left us — especially when they leave us so unexpectedly like your father did. There will always be a hole in our lives that can't quite be filled. But the pain does decrease over time, and the hole gets smaller as our lives are taken up with other things and other people. Just know that ignoring or suppressing the pain won't help. Instead, you need to learn to focus on all of the positive emotions you associate with your father. Focus on the your love for him, and the grief at his absence will grow easier to bear."

* * *

 **Saturday, April 1, 1996, Afternoon.**

"Dolores! Dolores!"

"Yes, what is it? What's going on?" Umbridge asked as she rushed into her tiny office.

"It's about time," Fudge growled from the fireplace. "I've been trying to contact you all day!"

"I'm sorry about that, but I've been out patrolling the halls, looking for troublemakers—" she tried to explain, but even through the fire, his thunderous expression proclaimed that he didn't care.

"That's not important now," Fudge cut her off. "Things are getting bad here. More and more of my supporters are refusing to return my calls. I've actually been seeing people carrying copies of the _Quibbler_ in the halls! Sirius Black has been getting more support himself, and I believe that he's been organizing opposition to me in the Wizengamot. I'm certain that I've got several traitors on staff, but I can't determine which of our people here are loyal and which aren't. Amelia is snooping around all the time, and I have no idea what she'll find if she keeps looking."

"What do you want me to do?" Umbridge asked, worried about how badly things were going at the Ministry without her guidance.

"It all comes down to Dumbledore, like you said," Fudge answered. "He's behind all of this — I know it. Once we take him down and expose his treason, everything will fall back into place like it used to be."

"That's right, he's the key," Umbridge agreed wholeheartedly.

"If you know he's the key, why haven't you dealt with him yet?" Fudge asked in exasperation.

"I've been trying, but he still has a great deal of power here in the castle—"

"I'm not interested in your excuses, Dolores!" Fudge exclaimed. "All I care about is results — and you don't have much more time to get them! Once Potter takes her OWL exams, kicking her out of Hogwarts won't allow us to snap her wand, which means we won't have much leverage over her. If that happens, we won't have much leverage over Dumbledore, either. So that's your deadline! Either find a way to get Potter and expose Dumbledore before the OWL exams, or you can forget about your job — including your job here, because we'll all be out on the street!"

With that, the connection was closed and Dolores Umbridge was left alone in her office, the silence only broken by the occasional mewling of the kittens on the numerous pink plates adorning her office walls. _I came to Hogwarts to execute a plan_ , she fumed, _and after seven months, what do I have to show for all my efforts? Nothing! Not only haven't I achieved anything, but the situation has deteriorated — and far more than I could have guessed, if Cornelius' demeanor was anything to go by._

She now had just two months to finish the job. It was time for all the brats in the castle to learn what a mistake it was to cross Dolores Umbridge.

* * *

 **Sunday, April 2, 1996, Morning.**

"Another one?" Ginny asked resignedly. "We don't typically get new ones on a weekend — she usually saves them for the weekdays, when more students come down in the morning for breakfast."

"Yeah, well, I'm guessing she didn't want to wait on this one," Neville said as he read the latest decree from Umbridge.

 **Educational Decree Number Thirty-Nine  
** All students must consent to being questioned about suspected illicit activities.

"That's not good," Ginny observed. "That's not good at all. We need to make sure that no one misses it and that everyone is prepared, just in case." Neville nodded and decided that maybe this would be a good use for their new badges. With Ginny providing cover, he walked into a nearby alcove and scratched a short message on the back.

Soon there was a larger crowd gathered around the posted decree, including several members of the study group. None of them looked happy because they knew that they were all in violation of several other recent decrees — decrees that they were sure were aimed at them, possibly due to an informant telling Umbridge about what they were doing.

Later, during their weekly meeting over tea, Professor McGonagall would tell Jasmine and Hermione that she wasn't sure what Umbridge was looking for, exactly, but she suspected that the questioning would start with other, more vulnerable students first, so Umbridge could build a case against her primary targets before questioning them directly.

* * *

 **Sunday, April 2, 1996, Evening.**

"You surprised me in there, Bella," Rodolphus said to his wife. "I never expected you, of all people, to try to contradict the Dark Lord."

"I didn't want to leave his side!" she insisted. "I know that what he wanted me to do is important, but his own success is critical! As soon as he said that he would be taking charge and personally leading the most important mission of the war, one where that Potter brat wouldn't stand a chance of thwarting him this time, I knew where I needed to be."

"You were lucky he didn't curse you for such impertinence," Rodolphus observed.

"I'd have been willing to accept being cursed if it meant that he allowed me to come with him," Bellatrix declared. "No sacrifice is too great to ensure our Lord's victory!"

Rodolphus simply shook his head. Up in a darkened corner of the wall, one of the portraits quickly exited his frame.

* * *

 **Monday, April 3, 1996, Morning.**

"And I thought the last few decrees were bad," Ron said as they all sat down to breakfast. Jasmine noted that he seemed to be in a slightly better mood than had become normal for him in recent months, and she was hopeful that talking with Elladora's portrait had been helping.

"I know," Neville agreed. "The others were disturbing, especially yesterday's, but this new one is down right scary." The Gryffindors weren't the only students discussing the newly-posted Educational Decree Number Ninety-Eight which said: "Students who would like to assist the Ministry by joining the Inquisitorial Squad for extra credit may sign up in the Chief Inquisitor's office."

"Who do you suppose will sign up?" Ginny asked.

"No one in Gryffindor, I hope," Ron muttered darkly.

"Except perhaps the informer we probably have," Hermione pointed out. "And he or she probably wouldn't reveal their new job."

As they continued to speculate about what the duties of the new Inquisitorial Squad might be, a group of regal-looking owls entered the Great Hall, each bearing an identical parchment envelope to a different student. At the Gryffindor table, envelopes were delivered to Hermione, Neville, and each of the Weasleys.

"I wonder what this is... and why you didn't get one, Jas," Hermione said as she cast detection charms, then finally opened it. "Oh, it's from Sirius!"

"Let me see," Jasmine said as she leaned sideways.

"A summer ball?" Hermione asked. "I don't remember you or him ever mentioning that."

"Oh, that's right," Jasmine replied. "He did mention it to me, but asked that I not say anything. He wanted to surprise everyone with these invitations. Apparently it's 'expected' of people like him to hold balls every so often, and his adoption of me is an occasion that practically requires it. So he decided to host something in the summer, but he sent out invitations now so people can get dresses, clear their calendars, that sort of thing."

"This is nice and all," Ginny said slowly, "but I don't know if I can—"

"Keep looking," Jasmine interrupted. "Sirius said he'd include something extra for you and your brothers."

Ginny shuffled past the invitation and R.S.V.P. card and found a gift certificate for a dress at Gossypamer & Organza's. There was no galleon amount on the parchment, just the words "one fancy dress and accessories." Her brothers received similarly marked gift certificates for an upscale store in Diagon Alley that specialized in clothing for wizards.

"Jasmine, we couldn't—" Ron tried to protest, but she simply waved her hand to cut him off.

"This is from Sirius, and he insists," she informed them. "You're coming for _my_ sake because you're _my_ friends — most of the people there will be stuffy old adults that I won't know and will have no real interest in, though I will have to talk to them. Politics, you know. Since you need to wear something that you may not get a chance to wear again, Sirius decided that it only made sense if he provided it. You'll already be using up a long afternoon and evening to do me a favor — why should you have to spend money on a dress or robes as well?"

It took a bit of cajoling, but Jasmine was eventually able to get her friends to accept that it wasn't charity they were receiving, but rather a bit of assistance in helping Jasmine herself.

* * *

 **Tuesday, April 4, 1996, Evening.**

"Last month I told you that I had bad news, namely that we had reason to think that Death Eaters might attack the castle in some way. Probably by infiltrating it in some fashion," Jasmine said as the study group meeting wound down. "Well, now I have worse news: we have reason to think that Voldemort himself intends to come here, personally."

Everyone around the table blanched.

"As scary as that is," Hermione said, "keep in mind that you don't have to face him. In fact, you _shouldn't._ Remember that the prophecy says Jasmine is the one with the ability to defeat him, not you, so you can't even hope to get in a lucky shot."

"You, the DA, and the professors will deal with Voldemort's Death Eaters," Jasmine told them. "Unfortunately, we should expect that he'll have at least some of his best with him, including Bellatrix Lestrange for certain. He's not likely to bring his worst and newest recruits on any mission that he cares enough about to lead personally."

"This means we have to work even harder at fighting in teams, right?" Neville asked, receiving several nods in response.

"I... I don't suppose you have any idea when this might happen?" Daphne asked, clearly worried.

"No, but we haven't heard anything that would suggest that his plans have been finalized yet," Jasmine replied. "So I wouldn't expect this weekend or anything soon. But after that..."

They all looked a little overwhelmed at the news.

"It was bad enough knowing that Death Eaters would probably end up in the castle and we'd have to fight them here," Hannah said, giving voice to something everyone else was thinking. "But now we hear that V-V... You-Know-Who will probably be here as well... that we may well end up seeing him! Can't we get aurors here to help?"

Susan shook her head sadly. "I know my auntie would like to have aurors here, but she can't justify it — not to Fudge, at least. And even if we get a chance to call for aurors when we're attacked, we can't be sure how long it would take for them to get here."

"Which means it will be up to us, at least for a while," Neville said, looking grim.

"Hopefully you won't see him, even if he's here," Jasmine pointed out. "There are only a couple of places he'd likely head: Gryffindor Tower for me, the Headmaster's Office for Dumbledore... maybe the Great Hall, if it happens during a meal."

"That's right, it could happen at any time!" Hermione exclaimed. "We should ask Dobby and Winky to start a watch, especially at night."

Jasmine nodded. "That's a good idea. Anyway, if we know he's in the castle, we'll use the badges to signal where he is and where he seems to be going. Just don't get between him and his destination, and you won't have to worry about him."

"No, we'll just have to worry about the most vicious of his inner circle Death Eaters," Blaise said glumly.

"Not to mention some fellow students," Tracey added. "Quite a few Slytherins have joined Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad. I'd expect them and maybe a few others to help any Death Eaters who enter the castle."

"Can the Slytherin dorms be locked down?" Hermione asked. "If you can shut everyone in, it will protect those who don't want to get involved while containing those who would fight against us."

"I don't know..." Daphne said slowly, "but that's a good idea. We'll look into it."

"In the meantime, what can you tell us about the Inquisitorial Squad?" Neville asked. "What have the Slytherin members been saying?"

"Quite a few Slytherins have joined," Daphne answered, "mostly those from families that supported You-Know-Who in the past, but also some that were more neutral.

"Pansy joined, but it didn't look like her heart was in it," Tracey offered.

"Most of them seem to believe Umbridge that they will be rewarded," Daphne continued. "They also apparently think that joining will help them get jobs at the Ministry later on."

* * *

Once they were back in their dorm, Hermione climbed into Jasmine's bed.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Jasmine asked with a lopsided grin, but it fell when she realized how nervous Hermione was. "Is something wrong?"

"I... have an idea for how to deal with Voldemort," Hermione said quietly, "but I'm not sure you're going to like it."

"Oh, it's one of _those_ ideas," Jasmine said, closing her eyes for a moment and sighing deeply. "Right, then, give it to me straight." So Hermione did.

Once she was done, Jasmine frowned. "You're right, I don't like it — I don't like it **at all.** It's way too dangerous for you!"

"I'll be in danger anyway," Hermione countered. "And in some ways, I might even be in less danger than you."

Jasmine tried to argue the point, but finally, reluctantly, she had to give way. "I still don't like it," she said stubbornly.

"But it's one thing that we can be pretty sure that he won't be expecting," Hermione pointed out.

Jasmine sighed deeply. "Yeah, you're probably right. How long will it take to set up?"

* * *

 **Wednesday, April 5, 1996, Evening.**

"Albus! Must you scare my aurors like that!" Amelia Bones said without preamble as she stepped out of the fireplace and into the Headmaster's office.

"Why, whatever do you mean, Amelia?" Dumbledore asked, attempting to look innocent.

"Oh, don't try that on me," she retorted with a huff, dropping into a chair across from him. "What gave her away?"

"Aside from the fact that I'd just left a conversation with Minerva back in the castle? I think the biggest giveaway was the extent to which she stumbled while trying to keep up with me as we walked through the forest. Minerva has made the trip quite a bit by now and would be able to keep to her feet much more easily."

Bones nodded as she accepted the proffered glass of firewhiskey, though she chose to set it down on the table rather than drink it immediately. "That's always been her biggest problem, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I take it from your note and the context in which it was delivered that you know something about what Auror Tonks has been investigating? I know she didn't tell you herself, since she had to take an oath to that effect before she was given the case."

"It was only a guess on my part, but my guesses tend to be pretty good," Dumbledore replied, then frowned thoughtfully. "Well, they _used_ to be pretty good. Lately I've had to come to terms with the fact that quite a few of my more recent guesses, inferences, and conclusions have been wildly off the mark. Perhaps I should have been a bit more cautious in this case, but it seems that I was right."

Bones raised one eyebrow, clearly curious about the many things which the great Albus Dumbledore could have been so wrong about, but she didn't pursue it. "Right about what, exactly?" she asked.

"If I'm not mistaken, young Nymphadora has been investigating the ritual circle and the changes that have developed around it," Dumbledore answered. "And not just that circle, either."

"And if she is?"

"As it so happens, I know a great deal about what's been going on. In fact, I daresay that I know everything you want to know."

"So what's been going on?" Bones asked, unable to keep from leaning forward a little in anticipation.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you," Dumbledore said simply.

"What?!"

"I'm under oath not to share the information without permission, and right now I don't have that permission," he explained. "I might be able to get it, if necessary, but I'm not sure that it is necessary right now, since no laws have been violated."

"I...! You...!" Bones spluttered. "I'd forgotten how infuriating you can be, Albus," she finally said.

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "I apologize, Amelia. I suppose I shouldn't have done that, but I get so few opportunities these days."

"Regardless," Bones said as she shook her head, "can you tell me _anything?_ More to the point, can you give me a reason not to haul Minerva McGonagall in for questioning?"

"You'd do that, even without a crime having been committed?"

"That has yet to be determined," Bones said grimly. "We haven't completed our investigation. There have been enough bizarre magical events that have had significant magical effects to justify our concern. Questioning someone we're sure has been involved would be completely appropriate."

Dumbledore sighed. "That would be an unfortunate decision on your part. She is not responsible for what's been happening, but targeting her would surely lose any trust you might have with those who are."

"So, you _do_ know some important things."

"Yes, I do. While I cannot tell you all that I'm sure you want to know, there are a few things I can say. Nothing that has happened is dark, let alone evil. Intent-wise, it's all about as light as anything I've seen — they want the best for others and are looking to make it happen. Thus far, the effects are all positive as well, though of course none can see the future in enough detail to be certain that nothing negative will ever occur as a consequence. Even the best of intentions..." Dumbledore sighed as he trailed off, not wanting to complete that thought.

"Given how much magical power has been unleashed at each site," Bones said, "it's difficult to believe that there's no potential risk for the Ministry or the people, and I can't take the chance that those involved aren't any sort of threat."

"Understandable," Dumbledore admitted. "While I cannot say with absolute certainty that the power cannot be used to attack or harm, from what I've seen, it seems unlikely. The power appears to be about creation and rejuvenation, not destruction. Those involved are not looking for dominance. They don't seek to take over the Ministry or society, though of course they have their own opinions about how things are currently being run."

"Negative opinions, I presume."

"I suspect that I can't go into any details there without putting my oath at risk," Dumbledore said carefully, "but that's a reasonable inference." What he couldn't say was that those negative opinions extended to far, far more than just the current Minister and his lackeys. _Oh, how I wish I could tell you more_ , Dumbledore lamented. _I could use the advice of someone relatively unbiased, and in this situation Minerva definitely isn't._

Bones sighed in exasperation. "I don't like something that big happening without anyone in the Ministry even knowing what's going on, much less providing any oversight. We're tasked with protecting wizards and witches in Britain, but we can't do that if a small group takes it upon themselves to do something like this on their own, in secret and without any accountability."

"Yet at the same time, would _you_ trust the current Ministry to do right by such people, even given how much good they are doing?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, I suppose not," Bones conceded. "But you and I both know that change is coming. It's what we're both working for. What about then?"

 _You have no idea how much change is coming_ , he wanted to say, but couldn't. Instead, he said, "If the Ministry changes sufficiently, then I think those involved would be willing to reveal themselves, at least to a limited degree. I think they might trust you enough to reveal some of their secrets directly to you. I would be happy to advocate on your behalf with them. I know you to be a just and honorable witch, and I think that I can convince them to regard you as such as well." _I don't know if anyone will be able to moderate their plans_ , he thought. _I know I can't, but perhaps you can, Amelia. When the time comes, you might be able to work with them while still preserving some of our current culture._

"Thank you," Bones said as she finally took a sip of the firewhiskey she had received earlier. "I have enough on my plate as it is, dealing with Fudge inside the Ministry and You-Know-Who outside it. I don't need a third player causing problems as well."

"Oh, I think you'll find that those involved are helping a great deal with one of those problems," Dumbledore responded with a twinkle in his eye.

Amelia Bones simply glared at him, unwilling to let herself be baited again.


	46. Am I Evil?

**A/N:** Thanks to who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. I hope you're enjoying the endgame, now that we're in the final stretch! And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Betrayed" by kateydidnt. Harry is framed for murder and sent to Azkaban. Everyone turns their backs on him, but after ten years they learn that he had been innocent the whole time. What happens after Harry is released? This is probably the best "Harry goes to Azkaban" fic I've read. Granted, most of them aren't great, but this one is good (provided you're in the mood for an angsty story).

 **Final Countdown: 10...9...8...7...6...5!**

* * *

 **Chapter 46 - Am I Evil?**

 **Saturday, April 15, 1996, Afternoon.**

"We've got your latest shipment," one of the twins announced, sitting down across from the girls at the table in the common room.

"It was a lot harder than before, though," the second twin said as he joined his brother.

"What happened?" Jasmine asked as she took the box containing the April issue of the Quibbler and put it under her chair.

"We'd rather not reveal exactly how we do it," the second twin replied.

"But Umbridge has been watching us much more closely," the first added.

"Almost as if she knows what you're up to?" Hermione asked.

Both twins nodded and said in unison, "The traitor."

"We don't know for sure there is a traitor in Gryffindor," Hermione pointed out, "but your experiences are another bit of evidence in favor of that."

"Do you two want to stop helping us with this?" Jasmine asked. "We don't want you to take any unnecessary risks."

"What do you take us for?" the first twin asked, sounding a bit offended.

"We never back away from a challenge — especially when it involves sticking it to uptight authority figures," the second continued.

"Besides..." the first added.

"...We have a reputation to uphold," they said together as they got up and left.

"Luna usually gets a couple of extra copies, doesn't she?" Jasmine asked.

"Sure, why?"

"We should make sure that Katie and Cedric get them," Jasmine answered. Cedric Diggory and Katie Bell had only returned to Hogwarts that morning after missing most of the year, and their friends all over the castle had been organizing to help them pass their upcoming exams.

"Good idea," Hermione said. "In fact, I'll have Ginny ask Luna if she still has extras of any of the previous issues from this term and last term."

* * *

 **Sunday, April 16, 1996, Morning.**

"What is it, Mother?" Sirius asked with a yawn as he sat down in front of her in the warded portrait room. "It must be pretty important for you to call me up here so early on a Sunday. Did we get news about Voldemort?" He looked around and noted that all the rest of the frames were empty.

"No, nothing like that," Walburga said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. She seemed to steel herself as she said, "I've got something I need to confess to you."

"Oh?" Sirius asked, perking up a bit as he set down his tea. "You've seemed rather distracted for a while now, so I've wondered if there was something wrong."

"You could have ordered me to tell you," she pointed out.

Sirius shrugged. "I figured that if it was important enough, you'd let me know."

Walburga arched one eyebrow. "There was a time when you wouldn't have trusted me nearly so much."

"True," Sirius agreed. "And in some ways, I still don't entirely trust you; but in other ways you have earned my trust."

Walburga sagged a bit before saying, "That's what I thought, which is part of what makes this so hard to say."

Sirius' voice grew sharp. "You haven't been informing the other side, have you?"

"No, no!" Walburga said quickly. "Nothing even remotely like that! To the best of my recollection, I have not lied to you since you arrived in this house last year. When I told you that I'd help you and Jasmine Dorea, I meant it."

"OK, then," Sirius responded, visibly relaxing. "If you're truly helping us against Voldemort and aren't secretly working for him in any way, willingly or unwillingly, then I don't think there's much that you can say which would cause me to change my mind about you."

"Don't be so sure about that," Walburga muttered under her breath. Squaring her shoulders, she went on, "Before I start, I'd like a promise from you. I'd like you to promise to stay and hear me out. No shouting over me, no storming out after I've only said a couple of sentences. I expect you to be upset, but I'd like you to at least hear all of what I have to say."

Sirius' eyes narrowed. "Alright — I guess owe you at least that much."

"I'm sure you've wondered why I was able to tell you so much about horcruxes," she began. "Why I was able to tell you so much about what that book says that you never needed to consult it yourself."

Sirius groaned and put his head in his hands. "I worried about this more than once. You made one of those foul things, didn't you?" He looked back up at her fidgeting image. "Is it still out there? Are you coming back somehow? Tell me where it is so I can destroy it, and we'll forget this ever happened."

"That's generous of you, Sirius, but I'm afraid that matters are a bit more complicated than that."

"Did you make more than one like that wanker Voldemort?" Sirius demanded, his voice starting to rise.

"Sirius, please," Walburga said, waiting for him to get control of himself before she would continue. "I didn't do anything so stupid as to make more than one horcrux, but yes, I did make one. Something went wrong, though. I had thought that I had made a mistake, but do you remember our discussion about how the Dark Lord suffered greatly through the connection to Jasmine Dorea, and how that might have been a form of punishment?"

"Yeah," Sirius said slowly. "We discussed the possibility that those things are so vile, so contrary to life and nature, that Magic may have gotten involved to punish the person who made them."

"Exactly," Walburga continued, "and that caused me to think that the problem I had may have been a result of that rather than any mistake I made. In fact, that conclusion strikes me as far, far more likely now. It's a reason for us to have a great deal more respect for Magic than I ever imagined, despite what that lesson has cost me."

"I'd be surprised if you had made a mistake in something like that. But what went wrong? What sort of cost are you talking about?"

"You know as well as anyone how proud and arrogant I was when I was alive," she said, not bothering to react when he snorted. "That quite naturally carried over to my decision to create a horcrux. If some object was going to be a receptacle for a piece of my soul, it was going to be the best receptacle possible. It would be something to be proud of, something that would satisfy my ego and vanity. Can you not imagine what might appeal to me in that way?"

At first Sirius simply looked confused, but as the seconds ticked by, horror and realization spread across his face. "No!" he gasped as he shot out of his seat. "It's not... it... you!" Walburga simply nodded as Sirius started pacing back and forth in front of her. "So it really is you! I thought I was going crazy when I first got here, reacting to you like... like you were you. Because you were you! And no wonder Kreacher has treated you like you! Because you are you!"

Walburga raised one eyebrow as she watched his ranting.

"What was this cost you were talking about?" he asked as he turned back to face her. "You made one, and you seem to have done it right, much to my everlasting horror!"

"But it's not right, is it?" Walburga replied. "I know you've noticed how different I am from when I was alive. I started out bigoted against muggleborn, but I didn't want them killed or even oppressed. That was already a big change. Today I'm not even as bigoted as I was a year ago. On top of that, it would be impossible for me to be resurrected like the Dark Lord has been. I can't tell you how I know this because even I'm not sure, but I'm certain that what's in this portrait of me is stuck here for good."

Sirius eyed her suspiciously. "Stuck? So... not really a horcrux?"

Walburga's mouth opened to answer, then she closed it again and thought for a moment before she finally spoke. "I don't know. If this portrait isn't alive, despite the presence of a good deal of my soul, then I guess it can't be called a horcrux because it's not tethering Walburga Black to life. At best, perhaps it's a failed horcrux."

"That makes me feel a little better," Sirius said. "It's their ability to prevent natural death that makes them so vile — mostly. But I still don't understand how you changed."

"I don't fully understand it myself," Walburga admitted, "Part of my punishment seems to be that I can't regain any sort of body: I'm trapped here. The other part is that certain aspects of me were... sheared off, I suppose. I'm not sure I want to know where they went, but the rest — what you would call the better aspects of me — were retained and inserted into this portrait. So I'm me, but still different from how you knew me. And I'm developing like a living person would: my beliefs, attitudes, and goals have all changed since we've been working together, something that a normal magical portrait would never be able to do. And it's not something I would have done while alive, either."

Sirius sighed deeply but didn't respond. After a few moments, he turned and walked to the door. Before he pulled it open, he stopped and said, "I... I need to think about this. I don't even want to ask about the poor person you must have killed to do this. It's all too horrible to contemplate. But does anyone else know?"

"Hermione figured it out."

"She did, did she?" Sirius said. "That's amazing."

"Indeed. I don't know if she told Jasmine Dorea, but I assume so."

"And why didn't she burn you to a crisp?" Sirius asked, genuinely curious.

"She said she wanted to give me a chance to redeem myself," Walburga said softly.

"No shite?" Sirius said, now turning his head to look at her over his shoulder.

Walburga nodded. "In fact, it was she who encouraged me to confess to you. She said that by hiding the truth, I was denying us both a chance to reconnect and even reconcile."

"Huh," Sirius said neutrally before opening the door and leaving the room.

* * *

 **Sunday, April 16, 1996, Afternoon.**

"The Headmaster had an interesting meeting with the head of the DMLE yesterday," Minerva said as she led Hermione and Jasmine to the table where they had tea every Sunday.

"Oh?" Jasmine said.

"Yes, apparently one of her aurors has been investigating incidents of massive amounts of magic being performed around Britain," Minerva said. "What's more, this auror was getting very, very close to the truth, and the Headmaster was lucky enough to find out in time to head the investigation off. Or at least delay it for a while."

"Oh," Hermione said, paling slightly.

"What did he tell Madam Bones?" Jasmine asked.

"Very little, he assures me," Minerva replied as she poured her tea. "Just enough to keep the DMLE from acting further, though he does say that you two may have to open up and tell Madam Bones more later. He knows you can't afford to do it right now, given how the Ministry is, but he recommends trusting her once changes have been made."

"We did ask Professor Dumbledore to take an oath to keep secret what we told him," Hermione said, "but I realized later that it wouldn't have covered some of the things he saw and experienced at the ritual — things we didn't directly talk about ourselves."

"He mentioned that, actually," Minerva said. "He knew that he could have said at least a little bit more, perhaps even hinted around enough for Madam Bones to figure out some of the truth that he couldn't say directly. He didn't, though, because he's trying to do better. Despite being ambivalent about your goals regarding the prophecy, and even more concerned about the amount of power involved in the rituals, he accepts that you have good intentions, and he wants to make up for all the mistakes he's made by adhering to the spirit of the oath he gave, not merely the letter."

"That's... more than a little surprising," Hermione responded as she sipped some of her tea. "I never expected him to change like that. I'm so accustomed to him simply using others for his own ends."

"He was never malicious," Minerva pointed out. "He's been stubborn and short-sighted, and he's refused to listen to others, but he's never wanted to hurt you. Either of you. Having him at that ritual probably did more to drive home to him how wrong he's been than any argument could have managed. Arguments he could have ignored, but the power and effects of that ritual were a huge slap in the face for him — especially since he knows that he's never been part of anything like that. There's no way he can deny his own healing, what's been happening in the forest, or how good all of that ultimately is. He may never be able to fully accept what you're doing and where you're going, but I don't think you'll have to worry about him simply assuming the worst about what you're doing, either."

* * *

 **Sunday, April 16, 1996, Evening.**

"Hey, Hermione?" Ron said softly as he approached her and Jasmine in the common room. "I just got finished talking to, uh, Miss Black, you know? Anyway, she said she wanted to talk to you."

Hermione and Jasmine had both risen to go to the seventh year boys' dorm when Hermione held out his hand. "You still have another six inches to write for our Transfiguration essay. I'll fill you in later, but you need to finish that first. You've been putting it off all week!"

Jasmine, scowled briefly, but reluctantly agreed before sitting back down. Once she was up in the dorm, Hermione silenced and sealed the door before saying, "Elladora? Is something wrong?"

"I spent some time talking to Sirius earlier today," the portrait replied. "He told me about a difficult conversation he'd had with Walburga this morning. He said you'd know something about it?"

Hermione's brow furrowed, but a moment later her expression cleared. "Oh, that conversation! Yes, I've been wondering if or when it would happen. What did he tell you?" Elladora proceeded to explain everything Sirius had relayed to her about Walburga's confession and their speculations about how both she and Voldemort had been punished by Magic for misusing their gifts in ways that contradicted both life and nature.

"That's interesting," Hermione said slowly. "I assumed that Voldemort suffering through the connection was simply a happy side-effect of what we were doing, but if we accept that Magic is sentient and abhors things like horcruxes, then perhaps the pain was... a deliberate part of his punishment."

"And what happened to Walburga would seem to support that conclusion," Elladora added. "I can't imagine what else might explain such an odd yet specific set of results — results which happen to put her in a position, and disposition, to help a couple touched by prophecy."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly. "You're right — that does all fit if prophecies are sent to us by Magic."

"Regardless, that's not why I wanted to talk to you," the portrait said. "Sirius is having a lot of difficulty coping with this morning's revelations. He hates his mother and had enough trouble coming to terms with her portrait, but now he learns that it's actually been his mother that he's been interacting with all along. What's more, her portrait is the product of one of the most vile examples of dark magic known. It's everything he has ever hated about his family. Yet at the same time, he can't ignore how much she's willingly helped him and his goddaughter. He can't deny how much she's changed, nor how much he's come to depend on her. And, as much as he'd like to strike out at her, it seems like she's already been punished — and is continuing to be punished, perhaps. Since you advised her to confess to him, I was wondering if you had any suggestions or insights that would help me to help him."

Hermione nodded. "It's a real dilemma. I was worried how he would take it, but at least he hasn't been trying to destroy her — assuming he even knows how. I told her that however acceptable their relationship has been thus far, she was denying them both the opportunity to have so much more by keeping her origins a secret. It sounds like she finally took that to heart. What Sirius needs to come to terms with is that the portrait isn't the same as the mother he hated. It's his mother, but also not. He needs to decide if he's going to allow himself to be burdened by the memories of a mother who is dead, or give himself the chance to form a new relationship with a mother who is still present."

Elladora cocked her head in thought for a moment, then said, "That's similar to what I told him, but I like the way you put it. I'll go back and work with him for a bit. Whatever happens, this won't be quick or easy for him to adapt to. Thanks for talking to me about it."

Once Hermione Jasmine had finally finished her essay, Hermione dragged her up to their dorm, where she filled her girlfriend in on what had been happening with her godfather.

* * *

 **Monday, April 17, 1996. Morning.**

"She's pushing harder," Neville observed as he looked at the latest decree.

 **Educational Decree Number One Hundred Thirty-Six:  
** All students must cooperate with the Chief Inquisitor and be forthcoming with information  
regarding suspicious behaviour or outlawed activities.

"First she demanded that we all agree to be questioned," Hermione said, "but now she demands that we be cooperative and forthcoming. I wonder if her questioning wasn't going as smoothly as she wanted and so she felt she had to take this step."

"Maybe," Jasmine responded. "Do you know anyone who has been questioned? It's been two weeks."

"Not personally, no," Neville answered. "But if students are being uncooperative, I suppose it's not been going quickly. That might change now."

"We'll have to be on our guard, I guess," Jasmine said. "Do you suppose she's seen this month's issue of the Quibbler?"

"Probably — and with those interviews that were published, I'm surprised she hasn't attacked you two outright in the Great Hall," Neville answered.

* * *

 **Friday, April 21, 1996, Evening.**

Half of the Gryffindor common room was being used by students engaged in DA practice. In one corner, Ron and Neville were explaining to a group of younger students some of the finer points of casting effective defensive shields, while in another corner Ginny was explaining to others about the principles of silent casting.

In the middle, Jasmine and Hermione were instructing two teams fighting against each other. Each team of three students was practicing how to best work together for the most effective combination of offensive and defensive spells. They'd been at it with different teams for more than two hours already and were about to switch to the last two teams when the portrait door suddenly burst open and several people stormed in.

"You! All of you! Stop right this instant!" Dolores Umbridge shouted. "You're all in violation of multiple Educational Decrees from the Ministry!" Everyone in the common room froze in shock. "Your rebellion against the Ministry of Magic has been discovered, and you'll all pay the price!"

"No one here has done anything wrong!" Jasmine insisted. "If anyone has violated any rules, it's me."

"And me," Hermione added, stepping forward to stand next to her girlfriend.

"Check Granger's bag," came a familiar voice from the group of Inquisitorial Squad members behind Umbridge. "When I asked earlier this evening about joining, she pulled out a piece of parchment that explains what their group is doing."

"Thank you, I'll do that." Umbridge snatched up Hermione's bag and began rummaging around in it while Cormac McLaggen stepped forward to reveal himself.

"You!" Jasmine hissed. "How could you?"

"How could I what?" McLaggen asked pompously. "How could I do my duty to the Ministry? Easy — my uncle Tiberius simply had to ask me on behalf of the Minister of Magic, and I acted as was appropriate. It's how decent wizards and witches get ahead in our society. If you two had behaved in a more appropriate manner, you wouldn't be in so much trouble now."

"Got it!" Umbridge exclaimed, smiling triumphantly as she waved a piece of parchment around. "If you two wish to take the blame for all this, so be it. I'll make such an example out of you that no one else will even think about staging an insurrection against the Ministry ever again. Let's go to the Headmaster's office, where I can contact Cornelius and we can put an end to this little rebellion once and for all!"

Jasmine and Hermione glared at McLaggen as they were grabbed roughly by other members of the Inquisitorial Squad — all Slytherin, from what they could tell — and dragged towards the portrait hole.

"Mr. McLaggen?" Umbridge said. "Perhaps you should stay and watch over Gryffindor Tower to make sure they don't break any more rules. I'm leaving you in charge. Use whatever punishment you think is fit if they defy you."

McLaggen turned back to the common room with a smug, superior expression on his face, but that quickly shifted to worry and then fear when he realized that every single Gryffindor had their wands drawn and was looking at him with absolute fury. "I, uh... maybe I should go help the others," he stammered before bolting for the portrait hole himself.

* * *

If Albus Dumbledore was surprised by the large group which entered his office, he didn't show it. "What can I help you with this evening, Madam Umbridge?" he asked in a friendly tone.

"You won't be able to help anyone much longer, Dumbledore," Umbridge said gleefully as she slapped a piece of parchment down on his desk and headed to his fireplace. The Headmaster looked at the parchment, frowned, looked at the students on the other side of his desk, then looked back at the parchment. No one noticed the tiny gesture he made with his hand towards the sheet.

Shortly thereafter, Cornelius Fudge and two aurors appeared out of the floo. "This had better be good, Dolores," Fudge muttered darkly. "I don't have time for any wild krupp chases."

"It's better than good," Umbridge crowed. "I caught Potter and Granger teaching magical combat to other students. Not only were they violating several important Educational Decrees, but we now have direct evidence for our contention that Dumbledore has been plotting a coup against the Ministry! He's actually been training students here in the castle to serve as shock troops which can be used to attack us!"

She picked up the parchment and handed it to Fudge, who looked it over and said, "Dumbledore's Army?"

"What?" Umbridge said, stepping around so she could read the parchment herself. "I was sure it said 'Defense Association' at the top."

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other with confused expressions. Dumbledore's Army? Jasmine mouthed. Hermione shrugged.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said confidently as he stood up behind his desk. "It was charmed to only say 'Defense Association' to anyone taking a casual look, but would switch to 'Dumbledore's Army' for anyone who knew the truth. I'm surprised that the two of you figured it out so quickly, but that's of no importance right now."

"Of course we figured out the truth," Fudge said as he puffed out his chest. "We've been on to you for months, old man. Months! You should know you can't hide anything from us! It was only a matter of time before we caught you, and now we have."

"Apparently I did manage to hide things from you," Dumbledore pointed out, "since your Chief Inquisitor focused exclusively on Miss Potter and Miss Granger despite the fact that they didn't know anything. They taught others what I instructed them to teach, but had no idea why they were doing it. In fact, they weren't even aware of the true name or nature of the organization — they thought it was merely a 'Defense Association' all along. A simple study group to help students work ahead in their lessons."

Fudge fixed the two young witches with a questioning look, and Hermione said, "I... I honestly have never heard the name 'Dumbledore's Army' before in my life."

The Minister nodded, apparently believing her, and turned back to the Headmaster. "That may be good for them, but it will be all the worse for you." Umbridge looked upset that the two witches might not be punished, but didn't dare protest since at least Dumbledore had been caught.

"Oh, and why do you think that?" Dumbledore asked as if speaking to a child.

"Don't you know how treason against the Ministry is punished?" Fudge asked incredulously. "You'll be lucky if life in Azkaban is all you get, and that's without questioning you about whatever other nefarious schemes you're guilty of. This is the end for you, Dumbledore, the end!"

"Ah, I see your error," Dumbledore replied. "You seem to be under the impression that I intend to go quietly." Before anyone could act, Dumbledore raised his hands out to his sides and brought them together in a loud clap in front of him, releasing a wave of energy that knocked out everyone but himself, Jasmine, and Hermione.

"Wow," Jasmine whispered as she looked around the office.

"I haven't been able to do that for quite some time," Dumbledore said in satisfaction as he walked around his desk to stand in front of his two young students. "Ever since that ritual I've kept improving — slowly, but steadily. I've not only healed from my previous injuries and ailments, but I feel years younger. I've even been able to understand Fawkes much more clearly than I have in decades! It's simply marvelous!"

"Wow!" This time it was Hermione who said it.

"Wow indeed," Dumbledore agreed, "but unfortunately we don't have time to chat about how well I'm doing — even when I was at my best, this mass stunning spell didn't last long."

"Why did you do it?" Jasmine demanded. "Why did you put your name on that list?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Dumbledore asked sadly as he reached out to put a hand on both of their shoulders. "To protect you two, of course. It's a serious setback for any of us to be forced out of Hogwarts, but it would be far worse if the two of you were expelled. I will be able to return, but I fear you wouldn't. So you'll need to be even more vigilant from here on out, because I won't be here to protect you anymore, and I'm not sure how much Minerva will be able to do."

"Here, you should take this with you," Hermione said as she took the parchment from Fudge's limp hand and handed it to the Headmaster. "There are spells to hide the names, but I'm sure the Ministry would be able to break them if they tried."

"If it's your spellwork hiding them, I'm not so sure," Dumbledore responded as he took the list, "but better safe than sorry."

"Where will you go?" Jasmine asked, sounding upset.

"Oh, I have a few ideas, but it's better if I don't tell you," he answered. "What you don't know, you can't be forced to divulge. Rest assured that I'll be in touch, directly or indirectly." Some of the figures on the floor groaned and began to stir, so the old wizard moved back behind his desk as he continued, "Lie down and pretend to have been stunned. Once again, be careful!"

As the girls got on the floor, he stood straight and held his hand up. "Fawkes, if you please?" he said, and the phoenix flew over, allowing the Headmaster to grasp his tail feathers before they disappeared in a burst of flame.

"What happened?" Fudge asked with a groan as he got unsteadily to his feet.

"There was a flash of light," Hermione answered as she sat up. "Then... nothing, until I found myself on the floor."

Fudge nodded. "Yes, that's what I remember as well. You two should leave now. Go straight back to your common room."

"But Minister!" Umbridge protested.

"No," Fudge interrupted her, "we need to hunt down Albus Dumbledore, and they have no business here."

Jasmine and Hermione didn't need to be told twice. They quickly slipped through the Inquisitorial Squad and out of the office just as Fudge started practicing a speech about the incident and calling for a photographer.

They didn't see Umbridge glaring hatefully at them the entire time, but they knew she wasn't done with them.

* * *

 **Saturday, April 22, 1996, Morning.**

By the following morning, the entire school had heard what had happened; but even if they hadn't, they'd have learned soon enough from a special early edition of the Daily Prophet which was emblazoned with the headline:

 **ALBUS DUMBLEDORE CAUGHT PLOTTING COUP!  
MINISTRY TAKES OVER HOGWARTS!**

Included in the article was the text of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Eight: "Chief Inquisitor Dolores Jane Umbridge has replaced Albus Dumbledore as the Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." No one was surprised that Dumbledore was out, but they were shocked that he was replaced so quickly — and disturbed that his replacement was Umbridge.

"It's going to get a lot tougher around here than I thought even last night," Hermione whispered, worried about who might hear them.

"Yeah, as if she wasn't bad enough before," Jasmine muttered. "Training to defend the castle will be harder now."

"Will the castle even be as secure with her in charge?" Neville asked, causing everyone to pause as they reflected on that question. "Will the wards or any of the defenses be as strong? If we're attacked, will she do anywhere near as well defending the school?"

"Thanks a lot, Nev," Ginny said sourly. "Just when I thought this couldn't get any worse..."

* * *

 **Sunday, April 23, 1996, Afternoon.**

"Let's take tea at this work table," Minerva said when they entered her office. "Hiding our activities from that woman will be harder, so we need to be prepared to say that I'm giving you two remedial Transfiguration lessons. I also recommend getting wands and books out, just in case."

"Lessons that happen to involve transfiguring teacups?" Jasmine asked impishly, earning her a smile from their professor.

"How bad are things?" Hermione asked as they sat down at the table.

"They could be a lot worse," Minerva answered as she poured herself some tea. "We caught a break in that the castle seems to be refusing to acknowledge that woman as headmistress. After she and everyone else left the Headmaster's office yesterday, she hasn't been able to get back in. The gargoyle refuses to move for her and no one can floo in. She even tried flying on a broom and casting blasting hexes at the windows from the outside, but to no avail."

"How does that help us?" Jasmine asked.

"A lot of the power of a headmaster passes through that office — literally," Minerva explained. "Controlling the physical office is necessary for controlling the school itself — the wards, the defenses, the roll book, everything. She can't expel anyone, she can't raise the wards against anyone... she can't do much of anything that she wasn't already able to do, and she knows it. It infuriates her, which of course is a problem in its own right because the longer this goes on, the more she'll take out her frustrations on the rest of us."

"She'd probably do that anyway," Hermione observed with a sigh. "To whatever extent this slows her down and makes her goals harder to implement, it's still a victory."

"Disbanding the entire prefect system and replacing them with her personal Inquisitorial Squad will make our goals harder to implement," Jasmine pointed out. "Having so many friends and study group members as prefects helped us a lot."

"She's not happy that there have been so few applicants to join her Inquisitorial Squad," Minerva added. "After the prefects were disbanded, she expected more to volunteer. She was even prepared to interrogate them to make sure of where their loyalties were, but only a few have bothered to apply. She yelled at the heads of house, accusing us of pressuring students not to join."

"If... or when she finds out it's more because the students support Jasmine and me over her, she'll be furious," Hermione said.

"I don't suppose there's anything we can do about her?" Jasmine asked, and Minerva simply shook her head. "What about McLaggen? The house hasn't killed him... yet. But only because he's been doing a good job of hiding, and we've been unsure about how well protected he is by the Ministry. If we wanted to find him and deal with him, we could." All of this was said with a dangerous edge in her voice that was seldom heard.

"As much as I'd like to make my displeasure known," Minerva said, also clearly upset, "it's best that we leave him alone for now. He does have family with influence in the Ministry, so it would create problems if anything were to happen to him."

"Fine — we'll let him grow complacent," Jasmine replied with icy resolve. "As soon as the situation at the Ministry changes, though, there will have to be a reckoning with him."

* * *

 **Tuesday, April 25, 1996, Evening.**

It hadn't been easy, but all the members of the study group managed to make their way to the Room of Requirement for an evening training session. Living under Umbridge's regime was growing more and more difficult already, so everyone was eager for a chance to let off some steam. Somehow, the Room understood this and managed to superimpose Umbridge's face on the targets being used, leading to spectacular leaps in speed in accuracy across the board.

"Before we go," Jasmine announced at the end, "we need to talk about Beltane."

"You're still doing it?" Tracey asked hopefully.

"Absolutely," Jasmine answered. "And it will be at Stonehenge, too. Despite how much of a tourist attraction it's become, it's still the most magically powerful stone circle in Britain right now. We've been told that the results could far exceed anything we've done so far."

"Wow," Tracey whispered.

"Do you... I mean... is there any chance we could go?" Neville asked, gesturing to Ron and Blaise at his side.

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, then back at the boys. "I... I don't think that would be a good idea." When Neville's and Ron's expressions fell, she quickly continued, "It's just that this is a veela ritual, designed to be all female. It's not meant for wizards to participate. Maybe something could be done about that, I don't know, but I don't think it could be done quickly."

"I wouldn't mind watching, if that's allowed," Ron suggested hopefully. Blaise gave him an odd look.

"Normally, I'd say that might be fine," Hermione replied awkwardly, "but there's an additional problem, and it's what we wanted to talk to the others about. You see... well, Beltane is a bit unusual in that it's a much more... sexual ritual than the others."

Now Ron and Neville both blushed, and Blaise smirked a bit at their discomfiture.

"It's when Hermione and I... first became intimate," Jasmine explained. "Before we participated in last year's Beltane ritual, we had to decide if that was something we were willing to do. Having some wizards there... I'm not sure that would be such a good idea."

"But what about us?" Susan asked. "Isn't it just as much of a problem for us as it is for them?"

"Not entirely," Gabrielle answered. "If zere is no one zere zat you would see as a potential sexual partner, zen you should not have much to worry about. It is not as if you are going to grab ze nearest witch and start shagging her. Having such a partner nearby increases ze amount of desire in you; without such a partner, you will feel a bit anxious, but it should be manageable."

"Manageable or not, it will be more than you've experienced before," Hermione said. "So you need to be aware of that. If you think it will bother you too much, you shouldn't participate."

"I think I can handle feeling randy for the night," Ginny said casually, then she looked over at Neville. "But I agree that the boys shouldn't attend this time. It would... lead to complications."

Ron looked at his sister, then at Neville, then over at Luna, and finally said, "Ginny's right. We are not participating. Maybe, uh, next time. But not this time." He looked back at Neville and said, "Right?"

"Uh, right," Neville responded quickly, his face a burning red. "Definitely not."

* * *

 **Thursday, April 27, 1996, Evening.**

Voldemort looked over the large number of recruits that had been smuggled in from the continent. None of them were very good, but they had taken his Dark Mark, so that made them his and would have to do for now. He needed all of the wands he could get, no matter how mediocre the wizards behind them.

Just because he was desperate, though, didn't mean that he was willing to skimp on training. In addition to the lessons they were receiving on the hidden grounds of Malfoy Manor, he was arranging for them to begin striking at strategic targets. Most important would be the capture of key personnel from the Ministry and various businesses, all of whom would either be killed, marked, or put under the Imperius curse.

Once they were done, the path would be paved to first take over the Ministry, then Hogwarts, and finally magical Britain as a whole. Soon, he thought, We will finally get everything We deserve!

* * *

 **Friday, April 28, 1996, Late Afternoon.**

Bobby Fairfellow had been a ticket inspector for British trains for over two decades, and it was a job he loved. He'd been working on the EuroStar that travelled between London and Paris almost since the route opened, and he told everyone who would listen — and a few who'd rather not — how great the ride was. It was easily his favorite train and route assignment since he'd started working trains.

Never, though, had he had a stranger week than this.

"Oi, Nigel — you've been working the EuroStar this week, haven't ya?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Nigel replied, not looking up from Friday's edition of _The Sun_.

"Well, have ya noticed anything different about the passengers this week?" Bobby asked. "The ones travelling from Paris to London, I mean."

"No," Nigel said with a frown.

"They've all been blondes!" Bobby exclaimed. "All week!"

Nigel shrugged. "So?"

"Waddaya mean, 'so'?" Bobby replied, outraged. "Every train out of Paris that I've been on this week has had lots and lots of blondes — more each day, come to think of it, and today the whole bleedin' train is packed with 'em! Tall, gorgeous blondes... everywhere!"

"So?" Nigel repeated, most of his attention focused on page 3. "It's France."

"Of course it's France," Bobby said, exasperated with his colleague. "But France ain't bleedin' Sweden, is it? There're more blonde birds on this train today than there are in Stockholm, I'll wager." Bobby removed his cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I swear, if I wasn't a happily married man..."

Nigel's eyes flicked briefly up from his paper as he smirked. "You mean, if Edna hadn't threatened to cut your bollocks off if you so much as looked at another bird..."

"Yeah, that too," Bobby conceded. "But I still wish I knew what was going on."

"Maybe there's a convention?" Nigel offered, finally turning the page of his newspaper.

"A convention of blondes?" Bobby asked skeptically. "What would they do?"

"What would I know about what blonde birds get up to?" Nigel asked. "Swap hair care tips? As long as they pay, it don't matter, do it?"

"I guess not," Bobby said, deflating a bit. "It just seems weird."

"Not as weird as when they held that furries convention in London," Nigel pointed out.

Bobby shuddered at the memory. "I thought I told you never to bring that up again!"

"Yeah, well, you stopped worrying about all the blonde birds on the train today, didnja?" Nigel said.

Bobby shook his head in annoyance and went back to checking tickets. He'd managed to suppress the memory of a train full of French furries, mostly, but maybe this was one trip he'd be able to tell stories to his mates about.


	47. You Shook Me All Night Long

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

This chapter covers Beltane, and some readers may enjoy rereading last year's Beltane celebration first. You can find it in chapter 56 of _The Power of Love_ , "Like a Prayer."

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Witches of Westfield" by EJ Daniels. Voldemort is dead, the war is over, and Harry decides to start taking control of his life. It doesn't take long for that plan to fail, as one witch after another moves in with him. How does Harry keep getting involved in these situations?

 **Final Countdown: 10...9...8...7...6...5...4!**

* * *

 **Chapter 47 - You Shook Me All Night Long**

 **Saturday, April 29, 1996. Afternoon.**

Filius Flitwick sat at his desk, checking off items on a piece of parchment as he went over the long, involved plans that would be necessary to keep Dolores Umbridge distracted enough the following night so that she wouldn't notice the absence of two teachers and nine young witches. Even Madam Pomfrey had asked at the last minute to go as well, which was good for the students since they'd have more supervision, but it made the problem back at the castle all the more difficult.

Dealing with this had proven onerous enough when Umbridge had simply been the Chief Inquisitor, but now that she was also the headmistress — even if in name only — he wasn't sure how he was going to pull it off. Having several of the castle's ghosts as well as Peeves on board would help, but it might not be enough.

He looked up at the Grey Lady, who was floating serenely on the other side of his desk, waiting for instructions that she could relay to the other ghosts who would be involved. Peeves, for his part, wouldn't be getting instructions — he would simply be aimed in the right direction when the time came, and hopefully wouldn't cause too much collateral damage.

 _Damage..._ Flitwick thought. _Why is it again that I'm worried about damage? Why simply distract that horrid woman when I can do something a bit longer-lasting? In fact, if I do it right, those who wish will be able to stay at the ritual site all day Monday — something I know Miss Potter and Miss Granger were disappointed to be missing out on this time._

The feral smile that crept across his face must have worried the Grey Lady. "Is something amiss, Professor Flitwick?"

"Not at all, my dear," he replied. "Just a little change in plans."

* * *

 **Sunday, April 30, 1996, Afternoon. 3:00 PM.**

When Jasmine regained her balance at the end of the portkey trip — she was improving enough that she didn't fall over every time — she looked around in astonishment, completely overwhelmed by the sight before her. "Sweet Morgana!" she said in a hoarse whisper. "How many people were invited to this?"

"I have no idea," Fleur replied, clearly at a loss herself. The other members of the Hogwarts contingent gazed in amazement at the multitude of witches — mostly blonde and all wearing green tunics — laughing, dancing, and singing in and around Stonehenge.

"It's about time!" came a voice out of the crowd, and soon Sybine, Adrienne, and Apolline managed to work their way over to them.

"Maman! Grand-mère!" Fleur said as she hugged her mother and grandmother. "How many are here?"

"We estimate that at least thirty thousand made it," Apolline replied. "Most are veela from various enclaves around the continent, of course, but there are also many trusted witches from France, Spain, Portugal, Germany, Italy, Bulgaria, Austria, and a few other nations. There's even someone here from Britain."

"How?" Hermione croaked.

"Arranging this by magical transportation would have been complicated, but also inadvisable right now given the state of your Ministry," Adrienne explained. "So we had to use muggle transportation. Everyone used portkeys to get to Paris, and from there we've been filling trains and ferries all week. I've been told that we booked so many seats that we caused problems for muggle travellers, but it was the only way to ensure that the British Ministry wouldn't notice what was going on. It was quite a treat for some who had seldom interacted with the muggle world, though, and that's added to the holiday atmosphere for everyone."

"But how will this work?" Padma asked. "Not everyone will be able to... you know, fit? Unless you're using space expansion charms on the circle?"

"No, we can't do that," Sybine replied. "Even if we could cast such charms with enough power to work, it would interfere with the circle's own magic. We can't celebrate a ritual in harmony with nature if we are trying to overwhelm the natural magic of this place for our own purposes. No, the use of space expansion charms only worked in the Forbidden Forest because there was no pre-existing site of power there. As a result, our charms became part of the magic of the site itself."

"Although in some ways it's not ideal, most of the participants will form concentric rings outside the stone circle," Adrienne continued. "Fortunately the power of this site is so great due to the ley lines that being outside the circle doesn't put one outside the boundaries of the site's power. Those inside the circle will of course feel the strongest effects, but so long as those outside maintain their own circles during the ceremony, they will benefit as well."

"Ley _lines_?" Padma repeated. "As in, more than one?"

Adrienne nodded. "Muggles disagree on how many are here, but since they don't have magic, they have no idea what they are talking about. There are three magical ley lines that intersect here. All of them were already powerful, but the previous rituals you participated in were done on other sites these lines passed through, so they have been charged up even more than before."

"Is there enough room even taking that into account, though?" Hermione asked. "I visited here with my parents a few times, and I remember that there are a couple of roads, and a village nearby..."

"I've been told that the primary wards are five hundred meters away, and the outer wards are a kilometer away," Adrienne said. "The roads have all been closed, and the closest buildings have been evacuated."

"Let me guess," Hermione said. "Gas leak?" Adrienne nodded, and Hermione sighed at the gullibility of British muggles.

Just then several veela came up, and Adrienne introduced them as volunteers who were helping to get participants prepared for the celebration. Like last Beltane, they were all anointed with sacred oil and given a garland of flowers that had bloomed in the wake of the recent Eostre celebration at Arbor Low: a mixture of pink and white anemone, primrose, bluebells, tiny marsh violets, and a few daffodils.

"Where are the goblins?" Jasmine asked. "I usually see them here."

"They've had to set up a bit farther away than usual, given the size of this event," Apolline answered. "Hopefully you'll get a chance to speak to them as we mingle."

"Before we get started, I need to ask if your friends have been informed about what Beltane is like," Sybine said once everyone had been anointed and received their garlands.

"Yes, they have," McGonagall replied. "Poppy and I will be taking them out via portkey at the conclusion of the official ceremony. According to Gabrielle, in the absence of a suitable partner, the effects shouldn't be so overwhelming as to cause them serious difficulty. Is that correct?"

Adrienne nodded. "That's always been the case before. However, given the fact that rituals performed with Jasmine and Hermione produce so much more power than normal, there's a chance that the effects on you might be different." She looked at the young Hogwarts witches, all with eager expressions on their faces. "That said, I've yet to see one of these rituals produce inappropriate or harmful effects, regardless of the power involved. So even if you end up experiencing stronger feelings or urges than would normally be the case, I'd assume that it's the goddesses trying to tell you something. You don't have to listen, and you don't even have to stay if you're worried; but in my experience, ignoring the goddesses never turns out well."

"I'm not worried," Ginny announced. "I trust Jasmine and Hermione, so I don't think that any changes caused by them will harm me." The others quickly agreed, with none expressing the slightest interest in being sent back to Hogwarts before the celebration had even begun.

"Good," Adrienne said. "Perhaps those leaving early should be positioned here at the outer edge. That will make getting out easier at the very least, and might even minimize the effects a little. Jasmine and Hermione will need to be inside the stone circle itself, I'm afraid..."

"Absolutely not!" came a voice, and when everyone turned they saw that it was Rosalie who had interrupted Adrienne. "Don't you dare separate those witches."

"Rosalie," Apolline said in greeting. "I didn't think you were going to be able to make it."

"Oh, I know that a ritual like Beltane is mostly for younger witches," she replied, "but I can still experience the sheer power of it. I wouldn't miss this for anything."

"Why shouldn't they be separated?" Sybine asked.

"Can't you see, girl?" Rosalie said with a scowl. "These witches are a coven. They're all connected now and they should remain together, especially for events like this! They all need to be in the center — nowhere else will do!"

Sybine looked back at the Hogwarts witches, this time eyeing them much more closely. "Yes, you're right," she said slowly. "The links are very thin, so thin that I hadn't even noticed them, but now that you've told me about them I can just make them out." Rosalie huffed and muttered about someone needing glasses, but soon they were walking through the throng of witches.

At their first Beltane, Jasmine and Hermione had felt the magical energy swirling through the crowd and experienced a pull to join the singing and dancing; yet because neither had been comfortable with such situations back then, they had resisted and instead kept to the fringes, mostly just watching. This year, they were far more comfortable with what was going on and mingled freely, enthusiastically participating in the revelry around them.

For the next five hours they led their group — which even they were now starting to think of as a coven — in singing and dancing their way around Stonehenge. It wasn't a conscious decision on their part, but they essentially walked a spiral around the ancient stone ring, circling around and moving ever closer to the center. Along the way they met a large number of witches from all over Europe.

At one point Daphne pointed to a cluster of darker-haired witches and whispered to Tracey, "Is that who I think it is?"

"Who?"

"The tall one in the middle."

Tracey peered more closely. "Sweet Morgana, it is!" she exclaimed.

"Who are you talking about?" Apolline asked.

"Isn't that Mrs. Zabini?" Daphne said.

"Oh, yes," Apolline answered. "That's the witch from Britain I mentioned, though she's originally Italian and apparently found a couple of old acquaintances from home."

"Can she... I mean," Tracey said awkwardly, "she _does_ know this is an all-witch celebration, right?"

Apolline laughed. "Yes, she was informed, and she brought a... _friend_ of hers who is visiting from Italy. She insisted that she didn't do such things normally, but when the nature of the ritual was explained in detail, she decided that she really wanted to stay and experience the entire event rather than leave early as you will be, and that was her solution."

Daphne's and Tracey's eyes widened, and they promised each other not to mention this to Blaise.

As they walked through the crowd, the young witches from Hogwarts became so caught up in the festive atmosphere that they didn't realize how much of the awe they felt at meeting so many interesting witches was being reciprocated. The magnitude of these rituals' effects was only discussed in hushed tones among the veela, and of course the full truth about the prophecy was kept well hidden. Rumors abounded, however, and so many were anxious to meet the English witches who were spoken about in reverent whispers.

Among the non-veela witches even less of the full story was known. They had simply been told that change was fast approaching and that they would have a chance to participate in a Beltane celebration with the young witches who were going to make that change happen. Combined with what they knew had been experienced by a few select colleagues the previous Beltane, that had been more than enough justification to make the trip.

* * *

Dexter Feelgood, a trainee healer who had been brought into Hogwarts to cover for Madam Pomfrey while she attended to a sudden family emergency, struggled with the diagnostic charms he was casting on his latest and only patient. He was sure he was doing them correctly, but he kept coming up with contradictory results.

"You say she fell, right?" he asked.

"Absolutely," responded the tiny professor who had brought her in. "She tripped on a trick step on one of the staircases."

"Sounds pretty hazardous — why hasn't anyone fixed that?"

The professor shrugged. "Tradition, I guess."

"She's got an awful lot of bruising and injuries," Feelgood observed with a frown.

"It was a lot of stairs that she fell down," the professor explained, shaking his head sadly at the lamentable state of his colleague.

"I'm concerned about what some of my diagnostic charms are telling me, but I should have her on her feet and back to work in the morning," Feelgood said confidently.

"It was a _lot_ of stairs," the professor said again, "so you should probably keep her longer."

"What?" Feelgood asked, looking down at the small man.

"You want to keep her under heavy sedation and observation," he continued, waving his hand in the air in front of him. "You want to keep her here for at least twenty-four hours."

That suddenly felt like a good idea. "Yes, sedation and observation sounds about right," he responded, heading off to fetch a potion to keep the pink-clad witch asleep. When he returned to the bed, the small professor was already gone.

* * *

 **Sunday, April 30, 1996, Evening. 8:15 PM.**

When they finally reached the causeway that would take them into the circle that surrounded the megaliths themselves, they were greeted by two people they hadn't expected to see. "Phoebe! Areto!" Jasmine and Hermione called out as they rushed forward to hug the two tall veela. Jasmine, though, immediately pulled back and started looking around and behind the other two.

"What are you looking for?" Areto asked.

"You didn't bring my goddaughter?" Jasmine asked with a pout, causing the new mother to laugh and Hermione to poke her in the side.

"Of course she didn't," Hermione said. "They wouldn't bring infants to something like this!" She then looked at the two veela with a worried expression. "Uh, that is right, isn't it?"

"Oh, definitely," Phoebe said. "This is not an appropriate place for children. We hated leaving them behind, but we couldn't imagine missing this — not after how wonderful it was last year."

"It was difficult finding someone to watch them," Areto added. "So many of those whom we'd normally ask were already coming here. And so many others also have infant daughters that they needed help with in order to come tonight."

"In the end, the Theledrion had to organize a special team to provide childcare for all the witches who wanted to come today," Phoebe concluded. "I think there are at least two hundred little girls who were conceived at last year's Beltane, not to mention all the other children who needed to be taken care of."

"Wow," Hermione said as her eyebrows rose in surprise. "No one told us there were so many!"

"Any plans on getting knocked up again?" Jasmine asked suggestively.

"Jasmine!" Hermione exclaimed, causing the other two to laugh again.

"Certainly not," Areto said with a grin. "I only just got back into shape, and it will be another six months at least before we'll be allowed back on active duty."

"Even then, it will only be part-time," Phoebe put in. "As important as the job of the Amazzi is, all veela regard motherhood as the higher calling. Caring for and raising our daughters will always be our first priority. That said, dealing with two infants at once is hard work. We had merely hoped that _one_ of us would conceive, not both, and I'm not sure how we'd handle even one more child."

"We might have another in a few years, but not while Aella and Diantha are still infants, at any rate," Areto said.

As with last year, incense sticks and small drums were distributed, and Jasmine could see that the milling throngs of witches around Stonehenge were quickly forming up into organized, concentric circles around the ancient megaliths.

"Time to get into our places," Adrienne said as she began showing the Hogwarts witches where to stand and explaining what would happen.

"This looks an awful lot better than I remember it being when I was here with my parents," Hermione said quietly as they finally approached the massive stones. "As muggles we weren't allowed too close, but still..."

"Sharpaxe told me that the goblins have kept this site in good repair to honor those who originally built it," Apolline explained. "They've had to hide how well-preserved the site is from the muggles, but for this Beltane celebration, they agreed to pull back the concealment and glamour magic they use. Few non-goblins have seen the site like this for over a thousand years at least."

* * *

 **Sunday, April 30, 1996, Evening. 8:30 PM.**

This year Margaux entered the circle and stood next to the small fire in front of the altar stone to lead the Beltane celebration. Because of how well last year's event went, they chose to honor the same four goddesses — Artemis, Aphrodite, Ishtar, and Isis — and all four of them had waist-high statues arranged around the altar. After applying a Amplifying charm to herself so she could be heard even out to the farthest circles of witches, Margaux called out, "Welcome, sisters! And welcome, spring!"

The response was almost deafening, with more than thirty thousand witches all around them cheering as the sun began to set on the distant horizon.

"Some of you are new to celebrations like this," Margaux continued, "but you all know that Beltane is, more than any other holiday, about love and life. On previous holidays we have commemorated the gradual progression of light against the dark and of spring against winter, but today we celebrate their victory and with it, the ultimate victory of light, love, and life!

Once again, a thunderous cheer arose from the multitudes, and both Jasmine and Hermione felt the expected stirrings of magical energy building up around them. Although they were focused on Margaux, they knew that for as much as two hundred meters in every direction, motes of concentrated magic were rising up from the ground and joining the currents of energy swirling around and emanating from each of the witches.

"Because this date is first and foremost about love, I'm sure you are all with your closest loved ones right now," Margaux said. "This is a celebration of victory, so tonight is a night for dancing, for singing, and for loving! Tonight is when we will all share in the experience of the sacred union of the goddesses with each other, as well as of the goddesses with the earth." She stopped and looked directly at Jasmine and Hermione before adding, "Indeed, we will probably be experiencing it on a far more direct and personal level than has previously been possible."

The other Hogwarts witches looked at their two friends, knowing intellectually what Margaux was referring to, but wondering how powerful of an experience it was going to be. "Now I'm almost sorry that I insisted the boys not come to watch," Ginny whispered to Luna.

"You know Ron wouldn't have let that happen," Luna whispered back. "And as much as I wish I could have provided a distraction for you, I don't think Ron is ready for that."

Ginny's eyebrows shot into her hair.

Margaux turned to the altar and threw a small sacrifice of incense into a central fire after asking for the blessings of each of the goddesses. As she did so, the amount of energy moving through the crowd increased, and Jasmine could hear pockets of chanting, all in different languages. Looking through the massive stones, she could see that some of the witches were swaying slightly as magic flowed out of and around them like a multi-colored river of power.

* * *

 **Sunday, April 30, 1996, Evening. 9:00 PM.**

Because of the large number of participants, they decided to forego the ritualized distribution of seeds, so Margaux moved right to the courtship of the goddesses. Like last Beltane, the choice was left to the goddesses instead of the veela leaders picking representatives as was tradition. And, like last time, the goddesses were asked to choose _vessels_ instead of _representatives_ — a word which Margaux made a point of emphasizing for the sake of the non-veela participants, most of whom were only just then beginning to realize how and why this Beltane celebration would be so much different from anything they'd ever heard or read about.

In theory, anyone could have been chosen — and with more than thirty thousand witches participating, there was no lack of choice. In reality, everyone who knew anything at all about the circumstances surrounding these rituals expected Jasmine and Hermione to be chosen again — including those two witches themselves, which was why neither of them were surprised to see their garlands begin to move and grow just as they had the previous year.

What was surprising was _how_ they grew. Unlike last year, Hermione's garland grew up and out into the horns of the Hunter while Jasmine's grew out and down into the flowing locks of the Hunted. Both witches wore startled expressions, though Hermione's was tinged with anticipation while Jasmine's showed a hint of trepidation. Neither was conscious that this was the magic of the ritual working through them, helping them to play their roles while still allowing them to be fully present in their own minds.

Thousands of drums started beating out a slow, pulsing rhythm so powerful that it penetrated the goblin wards and could be heard all the way in Amesbury, causing local muggles to think that a storm was coming. They were right, though not in the way they imagined.

Inside the circle, the two vessels of the goddesses could only hear their own hearts beating as the Hunted began to slowly back away from the Hunter.

Hermione was not used to playing the role of the pursuer, but she seemed to instinctively know what to do as she began to move towards her prey. Her prey, in turn, began moving more quickly. Magic pulsed and rushed around them both as Jasmine went first to the earthen bank that encircled Stonehenge, then gradually worked her way inward toward the altar — always moving closer to the center and never getting entirely out of sight of her Hunter.

Jasmine was used to the chase, but only as the one doing the chasing — the hunt and the chase was what she enjoyed about playing Seeker. Being the Hunted like this was a new experience, and her breath came ever faster as she wove in and out of billowing green and hard grey. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, not in fear but in anticipation. Her blood rushed loudly in her ears, not in anger but in desire.

Soon she came to realize that despite being the Hunted, she was more in control of the chase than the Hunter. She could slow down to let the Hunter approach more closely, then at the last second twist away to increase the distance between them once again. She was the prey, but she didn't want to elude the Hunter entirely. Thus it was her choice of where and when she would _allow_ herself to be caught.

Jasmine smiled slyly. She was the Hunted, which made it _her_ hunt.

They were surrounded by witches, but Jasmine saw none of them. She had eyes for no one but her Hunter, locked in an eternal dance which Jasmine was leading, now hopelessly far, now just out of reach. Finally they came to the altar, where the Hunted permitted the Hunter to capture her at last. She had enticed and tempted, testing the Hunter's resolve to ensure that she was worthy, and now she granted the Hunter her reward: herself and her love.

So strong was the magic within the boundaries of the stones that as they kissed and fell to the ground, they were engulfed in a light that would have been blinding had Apolline not been quick enough to once again cover them in the emergency shelter she had brought. A deep thrumming filled the air as the magic of the ritual began rushing from all over the site inward to the Chosen Couple.

Recognizing that events were moving far more quickly than anticipated, Adrienne grabbed a stunned McGonagall and pushed her hard towards Poppy and their students. "Get them out, now!" Unfortunately none of the young witches seemed able to move, too mesmerized by the shimmering emergency shelter and the sight of so much visible magical energy crashing into it from all sides. Poppy and Minerva had to work together to get them all into a group where they could grab the portkey.

"Is this supposed to happen?" Minerva asked worriedly.

"I have no idea!" Adrienne cried, her voice abruptly cut off as Apolline roughly spun her around and covered her mouth with her own. All around, thousands of couples and groups were already on the ground, tunics shed and limbs intertwined as they jointly celebrated the union of bodies, magic, and spirits which represented the creation of life itself.

"Morgana help us," Minerva whispered as Poppy said the activation phrase, whisking her, Poppy, and their students back to Hogwarts.

More and more magical energy poured out of the copulating witches and into the center of Stonehenge, but neither Jasmine nor Hermione noticed because they were far too focused on each other as their own magical energy began to pulse and grow. Pressure and desire increased until they could no longer hold it back, and when the Chosen Couple finally found release, they unleashed an explosion of combined magic — theirs, the earth's, and that of all the other couples — that made what happened the previous Beltane look like a Christmas popper.

As the wave of energy exploded outwards from the shelter, it impacted the other couples along the way and pushed them over into climax as well, causing them to add even more energy to the tsunami of magic. When it finally burst over the outermost circle of witches, the power was more than enough to overwhelm the goblin wards before spreading out to cover Wales and most of England in the magic of the ritual, even reaching as far as Yorkshire in the north.

* * *

Deep inside the Cheyenne Mountain Complex in Colorado Springs, Colorado, computers registered a massive light source of unknown origins at 51 degrees 17 minutes north, 1 degree 82 minutes west. Programmed to monitor for thermal readings that signalled either missile launches or nuclear events, the computer system initially got stuck in a loop when it couldn't identify the type of energy from the data being transmitted via the strategic early-warning satellite.

After two and a half minutes, a failsafe subroutine broke the loop and began flashing warning signals at several different consoles. By the time the senior watch officer instructed the satellite to focus its cameras on Stonehenge, the goblin wards had reformed and there was nothing to see. Suspecting a system malfunction, but not wanting to take any chances, Colonel Ryan ordered the chief master sergeant to have the site examined on the next pass of a KH-11 reconnaissance satellite, then left a message to have the system checked for errors.

Twenty minutes later, he left as the new shift came on duty and completely forgot about the incident.

* * *

Not far from Stonehenge in Wiltshire stood a hidden manor house. Once a magnificent estate owned by an old and proud magical family, in the last half hour it had become a site of near total ruin. The building still stood — barely — but none of those who lived there were conscious enough to notice. The simple truth was that the building and its residents had become imbued with too much dark magic not to be devastated by the wave of energy produced in Stonehenge, though most weren't dark enough to utterly be scoured away as the dark creatures had been in the Forbidden Forest a year earlier.

Indeed, there was only one resident who was that dark, but he had a strength of will housed in his unnatural body that went far beyond that of any normal creature. That alone allowed him to cling tenaciously to life, albeit greatly weakened from the experience.

* * *

In the Ministry of Magic in London, magical detectors of all sorts started malfunctioning and then simply stopped, overloaded from the wave of energy that had passed through the building. Employees on the night shift in both the DMLE and the Department of Mysteries started to panic, wondering if they'd been subjected to an attack, and soon the decision was independently made in both departments to call in their superiors.

In the Prophecy Room down in the Department of Mysteries, most of the way along row ninety-seven, a fake prophecy sphere that had been working to overcome the protections on the shelf on which it sat shook and cracked before going black, the dark magic running it having been negated by the wave of energy from Stonehenge. All of the other prophecy spheres on that shelf were safe once more.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was in the home of Elphias Doge, outside of Mockbeggar in Kent, discussing plans with his old friend when he paused as he felt a wave of magic wash over him. Looking closely at Doge, he realized that his old schoolmate hadn't felt anything, which meant that either the magic could only be noticed by those who were especially strong and sensitive... or by those who had already been directly exposed to enough of it.

It only took him a moment to remember the date. _Of course — Beltane_ , he thought ruefully. _I should have been prepared._

"Is something wrong, Albus?" Doge asked.

"Not exactly," he said with a sigh.

"Perhaps I can help?"

"Not with this, I'm afraid. I'm not sure what any of us can do."

"Is... is this about You-Know-Who?" Doge asked in a fearful whisper.

"No, nothing like that," Dumbledore insisted. "There are changes coming, my old friend. Changes that none of us are prepared for."

"Dangerous?" Doge asked. "Harmful?"

"Yes and no, which is the problem," Dumbledore answered cryptically. "I've spent a lot of time studying the path I think we're all unknowingly on, and as best as I can tell, a great deal should improve."

"But?" Doge prompted.

"But at the cost of changing some important, fundamental aspects of our culture," Dumbledore said.

"Oh, dear... that can't be good."

"Not for those of us who have spent so many decades living in and defending that culture," Dumbledore agreed. "Very soon, wizards like you and me may not even be able to recognize magical Britain anymore."

"I don't think I like the sound of that," Doge said fretfully. "Can anything be done?"

Dumbledore's voice grew heavy. "I've invested a great deal of my life in trying to improve things in our society, trying to correct the many injustices around us while working within the boundaries of our cultural traditions. Unfortunately, I've mostly failed."

"No!" Doge protested. "You've done so much good—"

"I've done good, yes, but I've also caused harm," Dumbledore interrupted him. "And the fact of the matter is, I haven't done nearly _enough_ good. The situation for muggleborn, for example, is still quite grim, wouldn't you agree?

Doge hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly nodded.

"And thus my dilemma," Dumbledore continued. "My way of doing things hasn't achieved enough, even after several decades. Another way of doing things may achieve all that I have desired... and quite a bit more that I never would have imagined. So I cannot justify opposing the changes I see coming, yet I'm not sure how or if I'll be able to live in it."

Both wizards were silent for quite a long time after that, each lost in his own thoughts about the future.

* * *

In Hogwarts, several witches — both young and old — were deep in contemplation about what they had seen and experienced earlier that evening. Minerva McGonagall was on her second glass of Scotch, desperately worried about her two favorite students and what might have happened to them. Padma Patil was rereading what little information she had on rituals and goddesses, hoping to find answers. Luna Lovegood simply smiled, content in the belief that everything would turn out fine.

Hannah Abbot looked longingly at the closed bed curtains of her best friend before retreating behind her own.

* * *

 **Sunday, April 30, 1996, Evening. 10:30 PM.**

When Amelia Bones floo'd into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, she was thoroughly annoyed to have been called in for an emergency so late on a Sunday evening. All anyone could tell her was that all of the monitoring devices had been overloaded — underage magic, international portkey and apparition, everything. Magical Britain was suddenly and inexplicably vulnerable in so many ways that she didn't even want to think about it, and she simply hoped that they'd find some way to fix the mess before any unsavory elements caught wind of their weakness.

She hadn't walked three steps before she heard the sound of the floo behind her; upon turning around, she found herself face-to-face with Saul Croaker.

"Saul," she said in greeting as he cleaned the soot from his robes.

"Amelia," he responded gruffly.

"What brings you into work at this late hour?" she asked.

"Sorry — classified. You?"

"Same."

He looked at her with an indecipherable expression for a moment, then said, "Maybe we should meet up later to compare notes on things we shouldn't tell one another?"

"Might be a good idea," Bones said. "Shall we meet in your office in an hour?"

Croaker smirked. "That would require telling you exactly where I work, which is also classified. Nice try, but no — we'll use yours. See you in an hour."

* * *

It was nearly midnight before he finally made it up to the DMLE, but she was still there working. "Amelia?" he said as he knocked on her open door. "Still have time?"

"Unfortunately, yes — take a seat," she said, gesturing across her desk to the empty chair.

"Do you want to start, or shall I?" he asked.

She eyed him closely for several seconds before deciding to take the first step. "A little after 9:30 PM, every single magical detector we have was overloaded by a wave of energy of some sort. Everything from underage magic detectors to the devices we use to monitor incoming and outgoing international portkeys and apparition. Everything is still down, too, though no one can explain exactly why they aren't working. I have no idea what it will take to get them back up, especially since I can't exactly advertise the fact that we have such a huge problem."

Croaker nodded. "That sounds about like what happened to us. We have all kinds of experiments and detectors running down there, and they were all overloaded at about the same time." He reached into his robe and pulled out a piece of parchment. "One especially robust device — and no, I won't tell you what it's normally used for — was able to record a bit of the magical signature before it was overloaded as well." He passed it over and watched her carefully.

"It doesn't mean anything to me, unfortunately," Bones said after a moment as she handed the parchment back to him, but he waved it away and said it was a copy she could keep. "Do you recognize it?" she asked.

"I didn't," he said slowly, "but another Unspeakable said that it was similar to some anomalous readings we've picked up every so often over the past few months. Nothing nearly so powerful, of course, but there is probably a link."

"What do you know about these other readings?" Bones asked.

"Not a thing, I'm afraid," Croaker said, his light tone belying the frustration he clearly felt. "Whatever we picked up was very weak, very distant, or probably both. We couldn't even get a direction. All we can say for sure is that whatever hit us a couple of hours ago wasn't a one-time event. Nor was it the first time."

"How worried should we be?" Bones asked with a frown.

"Oh, I'm worried," he admitted as he stood. "Nothing should have been able to penetrate to some of our devices downstairs, so whatever caused it, we have no idea how to defend against it."

Bones sighed. "Very well, I'll let you know if we learn anything new."

"I'll do the same," Croaker said. "One of the Unspeakables seemed to be making progress in fixing our devices. If he comes up with a solution, I'll send him up here to help with yours."

"Thanks," Bones said as he left her office. Once she was alone, she pulled out a file from a locked drawer and looked at a short recording which Auror Tonks had made of the magical signature at Arbor Low over a month earlier. It was an exact match for the one Croaker had just left her.

"Shite."

* * *

 **Monday, May 1, 1996, Morning. 6:00 AM.**

When Jasmine and Hermione finally came back to themselves, they had no idea what time it was. Despite not feeling any need for food or water, though, they were pretty sure that they'd been at it for quite a while. Stories they'd heard from Fleur about losing track of time told them that such things were possible during these powerful rituals, but they had never known if they'd ever end up experiencing it themselves.

They just hoped it wasn't next month already.

While Jasmine took a peek outside the shelter, Hermione checked the time. "It's only Monday morning," she said with a sigh of relief. "So we're still safe. What's it like outside?"

"About what you'd expect," Jasmine responded as she returned to her girlfriend, looking a bit shellshocked. "Just, you know, more."

"More?"

"Much more."

Hermione huffed and went to look for herself, only to return a few seconds later with the same shellshocked expression. "Yeah, quite a bit more," she said. "That's gotta be some kind of record going on out there."

"I wouldn't have thought some of those positions were even possible!" Jasmine said in wonder.

Hermione gave her a sly look. "We could always give them a try to see how possible they really are..."

Jasmine grinned back. "For science!"

As happened all through the previous night, waves of magical energy continued to pulse across most of England and Wales. None were as powerful as the initial wave, but all were strong enough to prevent the monitoring devices in the Ministry of Magic from being repaired and to maintain the suffering of those who had given themselves over to dark magic.


	48. Another Brick in the Wall

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

A lot of people thought that the appearance of Cheyenne Mountain in the previous chapter was a reference to Stargate, but it wasn't intended as such. Instead, it was simply the appearance of NORAD command, nothing more. If it was a reference to anything, it was to Tom Clancy novels.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Wizards Fall" by Bobmin356. This is probably one of my favorite stories and partially inspired what I've done with Iris Potter in my _Witches of S.H.I.E.L.D._ series. After killing Voldemort, Harry Potter decides to leave the wizarding world behind. He can't deal with all the corruption, hypocrisy, and stupidity. Just when he thought he was out, though, he gets pulled back in — not to save the wizarding world this time, but to destroy it, and start over with something new.

 **Final Countdown: 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3!**

* * *

 **Chapter 48 - Another Brick in the Wall**

 **Tuesday, May 2, 1996, Morning.**

"So, where were you two all day yesterday?" Neville asked quietly as they walked to breakfast.

"We were... busy," Jasmine responded.

"You were told what Beltane is like," Hermione added.

Both Neville and Ron went scarlet. "All day?" Ron asked hoarsely.

"All night, all day, and all night again," Jasmine corrected him, causing Ron to gulp audibly.

"And _we_ left early," Hermione said. "I'm so glad our portkey allowed us to leave from where we were. I'd have hated to have to pick my way through... all that. Again."

"Yeah, but y _ou_ weren't the one who had to... _interrupt_ first Fleur and then Gabrielle so they could take the portkey with us," Jasmine muttered under her breath.

"Pick your way through all what?" Neville asked.

"There were over thirty thousand witches there," Jasmine explained. "Mostly veela. Use your imagination."

Both Neville and Ron stumbled as those words impacted their brains.

"Oi!" Ginny cried. "Don't break my boyfriend! I'm still trying to train him!"

"What about Ron?" Hermione asked, glancing at the dazed boy.

Ginny waved her hand airily. "He's already broken."

"Oi!"

* * *

 **Tuesday, May 2, 1996, Evening.**

"So," Jasmine said, "That's the, uh, simplified explanation of what happened after you left."

"There's more?" Tracey asked innocently. "What's the more complicated version?"

"Nothing that we feel comfortable talking about," Hermione said hastily.

"Was it good, at least?"

"Tracey!" Daphne exclaimed, elbowing her friend in her side and causing Blaise to snicker.

"If they kept at it for over twenty-four hours, it better have been good," Hannah remarked wistfully. Both Jasmine and Hermione went red while Tracey struggled to keep from laughing out loud.

"Alright, alright, it was good," Jasmine finally said. "It's a shame that we couldn't stay for the whole thing."

"Whole thing?" Padma asked.

"It was still going on when we left super early this morning," Hermione answered, "and from what we were told, I wouldn't expect it to end until some time tomorrow night at the earliest."

"Wow," responded several of them in quiet whispers.

* * *

 **Thursday, May 4, 1996, Late Night.**

"So, what is it?" Sirius asked tersely. "It was a long Order meeting, and I'm not in the mood to stay up late for trivial matters."

"Cygnus came and made a report," Walburga answered without preamble. Sirius was willing to interact with her for official family business, but no more. And even then, he was barely civil when he did it. "He couldn't stay long because he didn't want to risk missing anything important, so he gave it to me to pass along."

Sirius gestured for her to get on with it, so she continued, "On Sunday night, something happened that caused heavy damage to... the place where the Dark Lord is staying. He can't tell how badly, but from what he can see it's quite significant. Even some of the portraits are damaged — all portraits of the worst of the, ah, resident family. He doesn't know if that's a coincidence or not, and his own portrait wasn't touched at all."

"Sunday night?" Sirius asked, now sounding interested. "That was Beltane."

Walburga nodded. "Cygnus heard screams of pain from all over the house for maybe half an hour, then nothing. In fact, nothing at all happened until this morning. Apparently everyone fell unconscious and didn't start waking up until today — and even now, they seem to be injured or ill. That includes the Dark Lord, who appears to have suffered the most, if the whispers Cygnus hears are to be believed. Everyone is in such a bad state that some attacks which Cygnus didn't previously know about and which were supposed to start this week had to be put off."

"Well, Jasmine said that if Voldemort were ever in range of one of the rituals, he might end up being affected," Sirius responded. "At least, that's what she was told by someone who's supposed to be an expert in such things. If Jasmine and Hermione did something on Sunday night, that could explain what happened. It's a shame this information didn't come in before the meeting — Albus was here and would have wanted to hear about it."

Walburga smirked slightly. "Elladora reported that those two left their dorm on Sunday afternoon and didn't return until Tuesday morning. She said that they looked very, very happy."

Sirius smiled back and said, "Well, I guess that proves... wait, what? **Tuesday** morning? That long? I'm... impressed. And rather jealous. I'd never have been able to last that long."

"Not for lack of trying, I'm sure."

Sirius started to laugh, then caught himself and frowned. He rose from his chair and stood there for a moment, then sighed and sat back down. "This," he said as he gestured with his hand vaguely, "is still difficult for me. I've hated my mother for as long as I can remember. I don't have a single fond memory of her from my childhood — not a one. Yet now I've come to respect the portrait of that same person. I don't entirely trust her, but I do trust her about some important things."

Walburga waited, not wanting to interrupt him. This was the most he'd said to her since her confession, and it was certainly the most he'd ever opened up to her about his personal feelings.

"I'm honestly not sure how to reconcile the two," Sirius continued. "I was managing before because I assumed you were merely a portrait, but now that I know you are her soul — even if not all of her soul — I can't use that excuse anymore."

When he remained silent for a while, Walburga risked saying something herself. "If it helps, I had similar difficulties, at least early on."

Sirius raised one eyebrow, and she took that as an invitation to continue. "I knew who I was, that my soul was in here. At the same time, I often didn't feel entirely like myself — I could tell something was missing."

"Was?" Sirius asked, appearing interested.

"Mostly," Walburga answered. "The feeling still comes occasionally, but it's much rarer than it was when I first awoke. It's as if... as if..."

"As if empty spots are being filled in?" Elladora suggested, surprising the other two as they hadn't seen her arrive in her frame. "Filled with new experiences, new ideas, new goals?"

Walburga nodded, and Elladora continued, "You're a soul in there, which I think makes you a person. Unlike a portrait, a person can learn, grow, and change. I believe that's what's going on: the worst of you was stripped away, which left holes in who you were as a person. Now those holes are being filled in with new things."

"Making me... a new person?" Walburga asked.

"That hardly sounds likely," Sirius said, causing Walburga to look a bit put out.

"Well, if she isn't a different person, why don't you treat her as you would your mother?" When Sirius looked confused, she clarified, "Based on everything you've told me about your relationship with your mother — your original, living mother — I'd expect you to simply burn her portrait the first chance you got. So why don't you?"

Sirius stiffened, and Walburga went still in her frame. Finally he said, "I... I don't want to do that. It doesn't feel right."

"Because she's useful?"

"No!" he said angrily. "I mean, yes, she is, but that's not why it would be wrong."

"It's because she's a different person now," Elladora said persuasively. "Everybody changes, Sirius. You are not the same person you were two decades ago. The difference for Walburga is that she was forced to change much faster than normal. Instead of layering new ideas and experiences on top of old ones, which usually produces a slow change, she had new ideas and experiences fill in the gaping holes left when parts of her soul were stripped away. In the absence of the old prejudices to provide resistance, the new thoughts became established much more quickly and deeply than they would for a normal person."

Sirius grimaced. "How can somebody 'forget' that they're an evil bigot? That's the part I still can't get past."

Elladora shrugged helplessly. "There's no question that this is unprecedented; perhaps it would help if you thought of it as a kind of amnesia. Regardless, you know in your heart that she _is_ different — it's why you can't destroy her portrait. Now you need to decide if you'll allow the memory of the old Walburga to ruin any chance of a better relationship with this new and much worthier person."

Sirius looked thoughtful. Walburga remained silent, knowing better than to say anything to him just now. Yet as she watched her son, for the first time, the resignation in her eyes was tempered by something that might have been hope.

* * *

 **Friday, May 5, 1996, Morning.**

Before entering the Great Hall for breakfast, everyone was greeted with a new decree.

 **Educational Decree Number Forty-Five:**

Proper dress and decorum must be maintained at all times.

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" Ron asked.

Before Hermione could chastise him, a voice from behind said, "Five points from Gryffindor for foul language." They all turned and saw several Slytherin members of the Inquisitorial squad standing behind them. "And another five points from Gryffindor for wearing an improperly tied tie, Weasley," Adrian Pucey continued.

"What?" Ron said, looking down and grabbing at the knot in his tie. "It's tied right!"

"It's tied sloppily," Miles Bletchley responded, "not that I would expect a blood traitor who lacks even rudimentary class or breeding to know that. Oh, and another five points from Gryffindor for contradicting one of your betters."

Ron's face had gone crimson, but before he could respond, Jasmine and Hermione each grabbed an arm and dragged him into the Great Hall, closely followed by Ginny, Neville, and Luna.

"Let me go," Ron said furiously as he struggled between the two witches. "He can't get away with saying that to me!"

"Actually, I think he can, big brother," Ginny replied as she looked around the Great Hall, noting all the dour faces. "Something tells me that they've been up to this all morning."

"They've been given their authority by Umbridge," Hermione pointed out. "What else should we expect but the same nastiness and bigotry we get from her?"

Ron sagged a bit in his seat as Jasmine and Hermione sat him down. "This is going to be bad, isn't it?" he asked.

"I'm sure we'll manage," Luna said dreamily. "As bad as things look now, I'm sure they'll get better."

* * *

 **Friday, May 5, 1996, Evening.**

Alessandra Zabini stretched out in her tub and relaxed in the hot water. She should have done this the previous night when she first came home, but she had been so tired that she simply fell into bed and slept for twenty-four hours. Now she was paying for that with muscles that were even stiffer than they had been. She was aching in places she didn't even know _existed_ a week ago!

Despite the pain, and despite the fact that she generally considered herself completely straight, she didn't regret a single thing she'd done. So, maybe she wasn't _quite_ as straight as she'd always assumed. She'd gotten to know her old friend in ways she'd never expected, and then she'd... branched out a bit. And received an up-close-and-personal lesson in veela biology she wouldn't have imagined in her wildest dreams.

And she knew she'd do it all again in a heartbeat if invited to another one.

 _I thought_ _ **our**_ _Beltane celebrations were a bit on the wild side_ , she thought as the hot water began to melt away the soreness. _I'm not sure how many of our people would be able to accept anything so extreme as what I experienced, but there's no denying the power — not just the power produced and spread across the land, but the power of the communion and how it brought everyone together. When I was told that the veela hadn't had any internal unrest in millennia, I thought they were simply bragging. Now, though... I don't know if they would work as well for mixed-gender groups, but if they're even_ _ **half**_ _as effective at bringing people together as they are for the veela, the impact on our society would be mind-boggling._

* * *

 **Saturday, May 6, 1996, Evening.**

"So, Amelia, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" McGonagall asked as the two witches sat down in the Transfiguration professor's office. "It's not because of Susan's grades as you told Umbridge, because Susan is doing well as always. And it can't be that you're looking for Albus, because I've already had to give a magical oath that I don't know where he is."

"I'm here to talk about what you and your friends were doing Sunday night," Bones said sternly, watching as the older witch hesitated ever so slightly while pouring tea for the two of them. "Albus assured me that what was going on wasn't a threat, and I was willing to believe him; but after Sunday night I can't take that chance anymore."

"Albus?" McGonagall asked. "I knew you two talked, but he didn't tell you that...?"

"No, I already knew about your involvement. In fact, it was our investigating your involvement that led him to contact me and then our discussion. But he's gone now, and the Ministry is still recovering from a massive attack that no one can account for — no one but me, that is. So that's why I'm here talking to you."

"What happened, exactly?"

"As near as anyone can tell," Bones explained, "a massive wave of magical energy passed through the Ministry at around 9:30 PM on Sunday night, causing all monitoring devices to overload — including those we use to monitor international magical travel in and out of Britain. We didn't get them working again until Thursday, so for over seventy-two hours the nation was completely open and vulnerable — an army could have been portkeyed in and we wouldn't have even known about it!"

"Oh, my," McGonagall whispered.

"That's putting it mildly," Bones said. "Such a breach of national security is intolerable, and I know you were involved. You were lucky that I didn't have you tracked down Sunday night and arrested with all your associates. That could still happen if I don't get answers that I like."

"Well, it wouldn't have been too hard to find me," McGonagall responded. "I was in my office at that time."

Bones' eyes widened in genuine surprise. "You were... but I thought... the signature of the energy wave that hit us matched what we found around at least one site where we knew you had been."

"I'm not saying that I was in my office all night," McGonagall amended. "I was indeed out earlier, but returned to the castle and was in my office a little before 9:30 PM."

"So... you were not involved in anything that would cause a massive burst of magical energy?"

McGonagall considered the question for a moment, then said, "Not to my knowledge, no. At no point during my time outside the castle did I see anything like that, nor was I engaged in any activity that I've ever known to damage or even disrupt magical devices."

"That's a very carefully worded answer," Bones observed, "but I'll accept it for now, especially since nothing you've been involved in before Sunday seems to have caused any damage anywhere. Are you aware of anyone who might know more about this? Who might have been engaged in anything nefarious after you were gone?"

McGonagall's expression became indignant. "Nefarious? Certainly not!" She then visibly forced herself to calm before continuing, "I might be able to learn more, I'm not certain. But I can assure you that none of those whom I might ask would have been doing anything to deliberately put magical Britain at risk as you described."

"Even if it was an accident, it's still dangerous enough to be a threat," Bones pointed out. "It's my job to investigate such threats and put an end to them."

McGonagall slumped a bit in her seat. "I know, and you're justified in being upset. Just... let me ask around. It will be difficult to get people to open up even to you, considering who's in charge at the Ministry."

"I can't say I blame them," Bones conceded, "but they'll need to talk to someone official, and better me than the alternatives. Right now the Unspeakables are also looking into this, and while they may not be in Fudge's pocket, they have their own agenda that I wouldn't necessarily trust."

"Can we talk again in a week?" McGonagall asked. "No, make it Sunday night, that would be better. Can you wait that long? I can assure you there's no chance of it happening again before then."

Bones sighed. "I can work with that, I suppose." She finally took a sip of the tea that had sat untouched on the table beside her. "Now, tell me, how _is_ Susan doing?"

* * *

 **Sunday, May 7, 1996, Morning.**

"Report!" Voldemort demanded when Rookwood bowed low before him.

"My Lord," Rookwood responded. "I was finally well enough this morning to check on the fake prophecy sphere I left in the Department of Mysteries. It... it's completely blackened and does not respond, no matter what I do. I fear that it has failed and was perhaps even discovered."

 _"_ _ **Crucio!**_ _"_

Rookwood writhed in agony for the minute Voldemort held the torture curse. "Your punishment was not for failing with the sphere," he announced when he cancelled the spell, "because We honestly doubted that it would succeed in time. No, your punishment was for possibly exposing Our interest in that part of the Ministry."

"I... apologize, my Lord!" Rookwood gasped.

"Macnair!" Voldemort snapped, and the masked Death Eater knelt before the throne. "What's the news on the target?"

"He's outside Hamburg," Macnair reported. "Our agents haven't lost him for more than a couple of hours at any time since they started tracking him."

"Good," Voldemort responded. "Have him picked up — it's time to put the secondary plan into effect. Contact Severus and instruct him to make as much Wolfsbane as he can."

"Yes, my Lord," he said as he backed away.

"Bellatrix!" Voldemort called out next. "Begin getting everyone ready — We don't care what kind of shape they are in. We will move on the night of the next full moon. That night will herald Our ultimate victory, like on the night when Our new body was created."

"What of the people you wanted to kidnap?" Rodolphus asked.

"You will still try to get a few key Ministry personnel," Voldemort answered, "but they can't be a priority. Since We don't know if We were hit by a deliberate attack or not, We can't afford to keep waiting."

Once everyone had left his throne room, Voldemort got up slowly and stiffly and lay down on the couch he had disillusioned in the back of the room. The torture curse was a difficult spell, no matter how much one meant it, and even that one minute of casting it had taken a lot out of him. Ever since waking up on Thursday, he'd been enduring crippling pain and was having even more trouble with magic than he'd had before.

Even worse, just to add insult to injury, it appeared that all of his marked Death Eaters were recovering faster than he was! It was embarrassing, and he was doing all he could to conceal that fact from his servants.

* * *

 **Sunday, May 7, 1996, Afternoon.**

"We have a problem," Minerva announced without preamble when Jasmine and Hermione arrived for their "remedial Transfiguration lessons."

"Umbridge?" Jasmine asked.

"Worse — Amelia Bones," Minerva answered. "She paid me a visit yesterday; apparently the reason the Headmaster talked to her was because she had been investigating the large amounts of magic being produced at several sites around Britain... and I had been identified as one of those involved."

"Oh no!" Hermione exclaimed. "How?"

"I have no idea," Minerva said as she shook her head, "but that's not the real problem. The real problem is that the Ministry of Magic was hit by a wave of magical energy on Sunday night. It overloaded all of their magical sensors, including those responsible for monitoring international magical travel. For several days, our borders were completely open."

Jasmine gave a low whistle. "That sounds bad."

"You have no idea," Minerva said gravely. "Madam Bones had been willing to accept the Headmaster's assurance that these rituals weren't a threat, but no longer. She may be willing to believe that what happened wasn't a deliberate, premeditated attack on the security of the nation, but even as an accident, she rightfully regards what happened as a national threat."

"Do we need to turn ourselves in?" Hermione asked quietly.

"It hasn't gone quite that far, yet," Minerva said. "First, do you know what happened?"

"We assume that it was like the previous Beltane, only bigger," Hermione replied. "There were more participants, it was on a magically powerful site, and of course our soul bond was already complete this time."

"We, uh, weren't paying attention to what was happening around us at the time," Jasmine added.

"I'm sure," Minerva said dryly. "How likely do you think it is that this will happen again?"

"On the next Beltane?" Hermione asked. "That depends on how many people are there and where we are. It's obviously possible. On the next ritual, which is Midsummer's Eve? Not likely."

Minerva nodded. "I thought that might be the case, though you should contact the veela leaders and ask their opinion. I believe that if I can assure Madam Bones when I talk to her again next Sunday evening that what happened was due to an unusual confluence of events which won't even be possible until the next Beltane, then she may be willing to hold off a bit longer on demanding answers. She understands that we don't trust the current Ministry leadership, but she can't sit by and do nothing if she thinks the security of magical Britain is at risk."

"We'll have Fleur send out a message tonight," Hermione said. "We should also talk to Susan to see if she has any insights on how to best deal with her aunt."

"On a slightly more positive note," Minerva went on, "it's finally ready." Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other in a mixture of satisfaction and trepidation. All they needed now to put their plan into motion was for Voldemort to show himself.

* * *

 **Tuesday, May 9, 1996, Morning.**

"It's absurd," Ginny said, complaining about Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six, according to which, "Boys and girls are forbidden from being within six inches of each other." Jasmine and Hermione were using it as an excuse to slide closer to each other, saying that they had to ensure they were far enough away from the boys around them.

"I know," Ron agreed. "What are they going to do, walk around with a measuring..." He frowned as he looked at the Slytherin who was standing behind his sister, holding something out. "Oi!" he shouted. "What are you doing?"

"That'll be ten points from Gryffindor for disrespecting your betters, Weasley," Urquhart responded. "And for your information, I'm checking to be sure that your sister and her squib boyfriend are far enough apart." He squinted at the measuring tape in his hands and said, "Aha! I knew it. You two are only five and a half inches apart. Ten points from Gryffindor for violating the latest Educational Decree. Each."

Luna put her hand on Ron's arm to calm him down as Ginny and Neville scooted apart. Then Urquhart moved over, did the same thing between Ron and Ginny, and announced, "You and your sister are only three inches apart. Twenty points each from Gryffindor for violating the latest Educational Decree!"

"But she's my sister!" Ron complained.

"So?" Urquhart asked. "It's not as if blood traitors like you care about such things." He paused and narrowed his eyes at Luna's hand on Ron's arm. "And another ten points each from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. You don't know when to quit, do you?"

Luna had to grab hard on his arm and put one hand on his mouth to keep him from going after the Slytherin as he walked away laughing.

"It'll be alright," Luna insisted. "It'll get better soon — you'll see."

* * *

 **Tuesday, May 9, 1996, Afternoon.**

Tonks lay flat on her back, gazing at a clear blue sky framed by the grey, imposing megaliths of Stonehenge. She'd taken a chance on apparating right into the middle of the site, figuring that no one would still be here. She had been right, but the ambient magic was so thick, so heavy, and so intoxicating that she'd immediately collapsed into a smiling, bleary-eyed, and oh-so-randy heap.

She thought about how she should start casting her detection spells, but she simply couldn't be bothered. All she wanted to do was find Remus Lupin and shag him silly. Pity he was still away on that mission for Dumbledore.

She thought about how she should contact her boss and get help, but she didn't care. Instead she considered whether it would be easier to track down Charlie Weasley, her Hogwarts sweetheart, and shag _him_ silly.

One thing she didn't think about was how the ambient magic might be affecting the muggles, and no one in the magical community noticed when Amesbury and all the surrounding muggle communities experienced a massive baby boom nine months later.

* * *

 **Thursday, May 11, 1996, Morning.**

"Interesting news from your parents?" Jasmine asked, noting how intently Hermione was reading the letter which Fleur had dropped off earlier.

"Uh, yeah," Hermione answered softly so they wouldn't be overheard. "Remember when you suggested that my parents find some way to help us in the muggle world so they wouldn't feel completely left out?" Jasmine nodded. "Well, I suggested some little things," Hermione explained. "Stuff that a couple of dentists could easily do in their free time, like joining organizations that promote equality."

"And?"

"They discussed it with the veela, and somehow the idea snowballed, and now... well, now they've started their own organization!"

"That's great!" Jasmine said. When Hermione didn't respond, she added, "I mean, it _is_ great, isn't it?"

"I guess so," Hermione answered. "It seems so sudden. They've never been activists of any sort, but now they are running their own group — one that has enough funding that they already have one office opened in London and are planning more offices all over Britain and beyond."

"Wow, that's impressive," Jasmine said. "It sounds like they might be able to make a real impact. What's it called?"

"Er... it's called the Foundation for Equality," Hermione said awkwardly. "Now, at least."

"Now?"

"Yeah, Dad says that Mum wanted to name it the British Institute for Lesbian and Gay Equality, but they overruled her."

Jasmine stared at her in horror. "Your mum wanted to name it BIL—"

"Don't say it!" Hermione said, holding up her hand and looking a bit embarrassed. "Look, my mum has a... problem when it comes to naming things. Don't even ask what she originally wanted to name their dental practice!"

Jasmine shook her head and sighed. "Well, at least you come by it honestly."

"Come by what?" Hermione asked, her voice sharp.

"Your own... uh... problem," Jasmine finished lamely.

"I do **not** have any such problem," Hermione insisted as she held the letter back up to continue reading. "It's my mum who has the problem."

"It ain't just a river in Egypt..." Jasmine muttered under her breath, but she shut up when she noticed Hermione glaring over the top edge of the letter.

* * *

 **Saturday, May 13, 1996, Late Afternoon.**

Jasmine and Hermione were once again able to use the hidden training area with Professor Flitwick. With McGonagall's help, Umbridge was expected to be tied up all day with staff meetings — something she had been resisting but couldn't put off forever if she wanted to maintain the pretense of being headmistress. That Flitwick claimed to be ill was taken by her as a blessing rather than as a reason to be suspicious.

When the time came for him to offer them another chance to duel him, the two witches said that they thought they were ready. They'd learned the hard way that using spells against the person who taught them to you was a sure way to lose, and now they seemed to have a new plan.

"Three," he counted, and the girls crouched slightly.

"Two." Both Jasmine and Hermione gripped their wands more tightly.

"One." Flitwick's eyes narrowed when he realized that the two witches had cast some sort of wandless spell on their faces or heads with their off-hands.

"Zero." Flitwick moved, suspecting a surprise of some sort. He was right, but it wasn't the sort of surprise that could be avoided by dodging.

 _"_ _ **Fulgur Maximum!"**_ incanted Jasmine, who was followed almost immediately by Hermione's _"_ _ **Tono Grandissime!**_ _"_

The first spell created a flash of light so bright that it completely blinded him, a problem he immediately forgot when the second spell produced a crash of thunder so loud that Flitwick could barely hear himself think afterwards. _Protection for their ears and/or eyes_ , he thought. _That must have been what they cast on themselves. Clever girls!_

Fortunately for him, he didn't need to see or hear in order to fight, especially against two inexperienced witches. Before he could reposition himself, he heard a muffled incantation through his ringing ears and suddenly felt himself sliding across the ice that had formed under his feet.

 _Fine_ , he thought, _I've bruised both my bum and my ego, but moving was my goal anyway._

Once he regained his feet, he rolled to face where the two witches should have been. Several fast spells didn't seem to produce any results, telling him that either a shield had been cast or some sort of cover had been created. Just as he thought his sight had recovered enough that he might be able to distinguish between light blobs and dark blobs, a cry of _"_ _ **Fumus Maximus!**_ _"_ caused everything to go dark again.

 _Hah_ , he thought, _smoke like that affects us both, leveling the field. That was your first mistake._

He flipped through the air to reposition himself, cast a few spells, then rolled away once more. He could see his hand and wand, barely, so despite the thick smoke he knew that his eyes had recovered. His hearing wasn't entirely back, though. He was in the middle of a triple back-somersault and considering the advantages of blowing away the smoke when he heard a voice incant something indistinct. He thought he caught the words _vespa_ and _mandarinia_ and decided not to take any chances, immediately doing another somersault in the other direction, then casting several spells toward the voice before jumping out of the way of any possible return fire.

Once back on the ground, he stilled, waiting for some sign of where his targets were. At first there was a faint buzzing which he didn't understand, so he jumped and rolled to take up a new position. The buzzing came again, forcing him to conclude that he'd better get rid of the smoke in order to find this new threat, but before he could cast he saw several... bees. Well, they looked like bees, except for the fact that they were longer than his hand was wide.

 _Hmm_ , he thought as the half-dozen insects hovered in front of him. _Looks like Minerva's lessons have produced some fruit, not that this is much of a threat._

 _"_ _ **Incendio!"**_ he incanted, sending a stream of fire to incinerate the bugs. When he cancelled the spell, he was startled to find that the bee-things were still there. And looked... angry. Before he could contemplate what it took for an insect to look angry, he was startled again by the fact that the insects were being joined by friends. Lots and lots of friends.

That was when he cast a quick and dirty shield before running, because he saw the size of the stingers on those things and didn't want them anywhere near him. Once he got a little distance, he cast several more comprehensive defensive and shield spells, thus protecting himself from the cloud of angry-looking bee-things. Unfortunately, maintaining those spells distracted him so much that it took him almost twenty more minutes to find and incapacitate his two opponents.

"Will you _please_ call these things off!" he cried once he woke the witches back up. Nothing he'd tried had gotten rid of them; on the contrary, his attempts had only made them _angrier_ , and he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to keep up his defenses.

"Sorry," Jasmine said with a sheepish expression as she dispelled the transfiguration, causing several hundred pebbles to fall on and around the diminutive professor.

"What in Merlin's name were they?" Flitwick asked as he canceled his defensive spells and sat down to catch his breath.

"Asian giant hornets," Hermione answered. "We read about them in a muggle book Luna received for her birthday."

"We added in a little extra size plus some fire resistance," Jasmine added. "Those were my ideas!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "She wanted to make them **twice** as big, but at that size they couldn't fly anymore. After a lot of trial and error, we discovered that about fifty percent larger was as big as we could go." When she saw Jasmine pouting, she added, "The fire resistance was good, though."

"And a strong aggression charm, I take it?" Flitwick asked.

"Oh, no, that was all them," Hermione insisted. "We have to make sure that their aggression is aimed properly so we don't get targeted as well. Unfortunately they aren't intelligent creatures, so complicated compulsions don't work well. In this case, we simply had them target the shortest potential threat."

"There are stories of them spraying venom right into their targets' eyes, but we haven't figured out how to get them to do that yet," Jasmine added.

"Not that we would have done that to you anyway," Hermione hastened to add. "Their venom... well, it melts human flesh. It would probably destroy an eye, assuming our transfigured hornets have venom that strong. They'd certainly have a lot of it, given how large they are."

"Sweet Merlin," Flitwick whispered. "And this is a muggle creature? Not magical?" Both witches nodded simultaneously. "Maybe I should borrow Miss Lovegood's book," he said half to himself as he got out the portkey to take them away.

* * *

 **Sunday, May 14, 1996, Evening.**

"As I indicated last week," McGonagall said when Amelia Bones was seated, "no one involved knew that anything so large would happen, much less that anything or anyone at the Ministry would be negatively affected. They are all extremely sorry."

"That's not much comfort, considering how much more harm could have been done if anyone had known how vulnerable we were," Bones said grimly.

"They know that," McGonagall said, "and they have all promised not to speak of it to anyone. They believe they know why it happened and are certain that the only time the same circumstances would come together like that is next Beltane — but even then, it's not guaranteed to recur."

"I take it that these circumstances involve sex and Stonehenge?" Bones asked. When McGonagall looked at her in surprise, she continued, "The auror doing the investigation on this apparated to Stonehenge to check it out. She collapsed immediately from the residual magic and spent the rest of the day lying there, fantasizing about sex. By the time she managed to crawl far enough away to concentrate sufficiently to leave without splinching, she was so randy that she only took enough time to write me a short note before locking herself in her apartment and spending the next day trying to 'relieve an itch.'"

"Oh, my," McGonagall said, wincing slightly.

"Then she admitted herself into St. Mungo's the following day because she had overdone it." Bones finished with a frown. "I'd like to charge someone with assault on an auror, but the worst part is that she's not even upset about it. I'm pretty sure she'd like to be there for the actual ritual next time, though she hasn't said it outright. I sent her back to St. Mungo's to check her for mind-altering spells or potions, but the results came back negative."

McGonagall coughed delicately. "Although I was not there myself, it is my understanding that Beltane is an exceptionally... _transformative_ experience."

"Is it, now?" Bones said sourly, crossing her arms. "And the other rituals?"

"Also transformative," McGonagall answered. "Just in smaller ways."

Bones rolled her eyes heavenward and sighed. "Based on what I've learned, I'm willing to hold off on demanding that anyone come in for official questioning. Consider it a sort of probation, but it's conditional on nothing like that happening again — if it does, I'll throw so many criminal charges at them that they'll drown in them before even going to trial. And they'll have to voluntarily come in soon after the current Ministry leadership has changed."

"If you're concerned," McGonagall said hesitantly, "perhaps your investigating auror could attend the next ritual? It's nothing like Beltane, so there are no worries there. If they took an oath to reveal nothing of the participants' identities until they did so themselves or until you leveled charges, I think that would satisfy them."

Bones considered that. "She'll know them by then, so if I do have to haul them in, it will be a lot easier. And she'll be able to tell me if any laws are broken. On the other hand, I'm worried about how these rituals affect people."

"Beltane is an unusual case," McGonagall tried to assure her. "One reason why I left was because... well, I had no suitable partner."

"Ah," Bones said in understanding. "The magic played havoc with her because she neither had anyone like that with her nor had one to go home to." After a brief silence, she said, "Alright, I'll ask her, though I won't order her to do it. If the others you know agree, I'll have the auror contact you directly."

* * *

 **Monday, May 15, 1996, Evening.**

Although McGonagall saw little point in it, she couldn't not hold a career advice meeting with Jasmine Potter. It would have been too suspicious to skip over her — especially since Umbridge wanted to be present.

"So, have you given any thought to what sort of career you might like, Miss Potter?" McGonagall asked, trying hard not to scowl at Umbridge, a looming pink presence in the corner. "Something in the Ministry, perhaps?"

"Hem, hem," Umbridge said, refusing to wait even half a minute before injecting herself into the discussion. "I'm sure that the Ministry would never consent to hiring such a blatant rule-breaker as this."

McGonagall was going to argue the point before Jasmine piped up to say in an uncharacteristically demure and quiet voice, "That's fine, I wasn't looking to have a career anyway."

"You weren't?" McGonagall asked, taken aback.

"No," Jasmine replied. "I think I'd like to settle down, get married, and be a housewitch. I'd like to find someone to love and raise lots of green-eyed magical babies. I can't think of anything better to do with my life."

"You... you would?" McGonagall said weakly, wondering where she was going with this and noting that Umbridge looked even angrier now than she did before.

"Do you think that's likely?" Umbridge asked, her voice dripping with scorn. "Do you think you'd be able to find anyone who would be willing to put up with you? Who would be willing to... to... to breed with you, a jumped-up half-blood?"

"Why not?" Jasmine asked earnestly as she turned to look at Umbridge. "You did, right?" When Umbridge simply glared at her, she went on, "I mean, surely you found someone who would love and cherish you for who you are, just as much as you love and cherish them. Someone who supports you in all you want to accomplish. Someone who puts you first in their lives because they think you deserve to be?" She blinked at Umbridge with wide, innocent eyes.

Without a word, the pink witch got up and stomped out of the office.

McGonagall had to choke back her laughter. "That was risky, Miss Potter."

"Oh, I don't think so," Jasmine said, making no effort to suppress her own grin. "There was no way she'd admit that none of that ever happened for her, and there was no way she'd admit that I got to her. In the end, retreat was her only option."

"Well, now that she's out of the way," McGonagall said, "let's talk a bit about your plans..."

* * *

When Jasmine entered the common room later, she were surprised to see Hermione sitting with the twins — visibly angry twins. She'd never seen them angry about anything, not even Bagman when he effectively defrauded them of their life savings. They had both been sad and even a bit depressed after their father died, but that was about the only time she'd seen the two with an emotion very far off of happy. They were much like their father in that regard.

"What's wrong?" Jasmine asked when she walked up to their table.

"It's the latest two Educational Decrees," one twin answered.

"We're certain that they're targeted at us," the second added.

Jasmine tried to remember what she'd read that morning, but aside from them being stupid, she couldn't recall anything about them.

"Number Thirty-Eight bans 'non-educational toys and games' while Number Nine threatens expulsion for any student possessing 'sweets from unauthorized suppliers.'" Hermione recited automatically.

The problem was obvious now. "Oh, your joke products!"

"That's right," the second twin said. "We've been developing them for the store we want to open."

"If we can't create and test them here in Hogwarts, it'll be a lot harder for us to get started with the store once we graduate," the first added.

"What are you going to do?" Jasmine asked.

"We're tempted to just leave now," the first twin responded.

"But we have been promised funding for our store if we finish Hogwarts with good grades on our NEWTs," the second said.

"Oh?" Hermione said. "Who would do that?"

The brothers stared at each other for a moment, then one of them answered, "Sirius. He found out about what we were doing last summer and said that we reminded him of him and his friends."

"During the Christmas hols," the other continued, "after... well, after Dad died, he contacted us with his offer."

"So we jumped at it," they said in unison.

"Well," Jasmine said, "there's nothing saying that you can't use this time to test out some of your more... dangerous or unstable products."

"Oh?" one twin asked, suddenly perking up.

"Jasmine!" Hermione hissed, but her girlfriend ignored her.

"You've got a whole bunch of students wearing Inquisitorial Squad badges who are begging to become unwilling test subjects," Jasmine continued. "Plus one pink Ministry official."

A slow, evil smile spread across the boys' faces simultaneously, and a shiver went up Jasmine's spine.

"Just remember that you can't get caught," Hermione cautioned them. "If you are, you won't have to suffer anything so minor as point deductions or detentions — you'll likely be expelled, and then you'll lose your funding."

"Oh, don't worry," one twin said confidently, "we know what to do."

"We'll just need a little help that only you can provide," the other added.

* * *

 **Tuesday, May 16, 1996, Evening.**

Cornelius Fudge skimmed through one report after another, then finally threw the entire stack against the far wall and cursed the name of Albus Dumbledore. It had been nearly a month since his escape, and thus far there hadn't been a single clue as to his current whereabouts or activities. As happy as he had been to finally get the old man out of the castle, he needed an arrest and conviction to shore up his flagging political fortunes.

 _If I can't find him_ , Fudge considered, _maybe I can find a way to get him to come to me. But what would he value enough to... Potter! Of course!_ Fudge immediately began sorting through piles of parchment until he came across his earlier plan to lure Potter out of Hogwarts in order to arrest and expel her. After looking over his notes, he concluded that the plan was still sound and would only need a few minor modifications to adapt it to using Potter to then capture Dumbledore.

 _The first of the month is a full moon_ , he thought as he reviewed his calendar. _That's the perfect time to launch important new projects. I need Dolores to bait Potter so she'll come rushing to the Ministry on the night of the first, where I can arrest her for trespassing, among other things..._

* * *

 **Friday, May 19, 1996, Morning.**

The first exchange in the Battle of Hogwarts was initiated that Thursday when Educational Decree Number Thirty-Seven announced that "boys must keep their hands on the outside of their school robes at all times." By the next morning, whether outside their robes or beneath them, none of the Inquisitorial Squad could stop themselves from repeatedly grabbing their crotches with both hands.

On the 22nd, Educational Decree Number Forty-Six banned "any literature by non-wizards or half-breeds." Within two days, every member of the Inquisitorial Squad was complaining that they couldn't find any books other than their Hogwarts texts. Even when people held up their non-school books in front of their faces, all they could see were regular class texts.

On the 25th, Educational Decree Number Thirty-One expanded the distance boys and girls had to stay apart from six to eight inches. By the next day, members of the Inquisitorial Squad were thrown violently into nearby walls if they got within eight inches of anyone, regardless of gender — and even if it was the other person who was responsible for getting close to them. They were all in the hospital wing before lunch with multiple injuries because most of the students took great delight in getting as close to the squad as possible. To make matters worse, Madam Pomfrey couldn't even treat them properly because she couldn't get closer than eight inches either.

Umbridge was livid by this point, but she couldn't figure out how it was happening or who was doing it, and none of the Hogwarts professors were the least bit interested in helping her. Had she been more skilled of a witch, she might have discovered that the problems were all tied to the badges that members of the Inquisitorial Squad were wearing, though it's unlikely that she ever would have guessed that they were being stolen at night by two house elves and delivered to the Weasley twins for cursing.

On the 27th, Educational Decree Number Thirty-Five banned "any items deemed not of educational value." The next day, members of the Inquisitorial Squad stopped being able to see any of their school texts as well; everything was replaced with copies of PlayWizard or PlayWitch. Just to ensure that they got no enjoyment out of it, however, the male members were forced to look at PlayWitch and the female members, PlayWizard.

On the 29th, Educational Decree Number One Hundred Thirty-Three announced that all "unauthorised textbooks" would be confiscated. The next day, Squad members were forced to duck repeatedly as textbooks, both authorized and not, randomly hurled themselves at the members' heads. Most had been to the hospital wing at least two or three times by late afternoon.

The only exception to this was Pansy Parkinson. Unbeknownst to all but a few, the curses on her ended within a couple of hours, and three of her classmates helped keep up the image that she was suffering like the rest.

* * *

 **Wednesday, May 31, 1996, Morning.**

The final straw came at the end of the month.

"Look at this," Ron said, pointing to the latest decree.

 **Educational Decree Number Sixty-Six:**

Due to continued student intransigence, all desserts are henceforth cancelled.

"It's a lot tamer than most," Ron said, "though it's still annoying." He looked over at Luna, who normally tried to reassure everyone that these decrees weren't nearly as bad as they seemed, but he was shocked when he saw how furious she was. He could almost feel the anger and magic rolling off of her. He and everyone else standing nearby — even Gabrielle — instinctively took a step away from the outraged little Ravenclaw.

"No... pudding?" she rasped. "No... more... **pudding**?"

"Now, Luna," Ron said in an attempt to calm her, though he was smart enough to still keep his distance. "I'm sure it will be alri—"

"Don't you try to placate me, Ronald Weasley!" she half shouted at him, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Fortunately for her, none of the Inquisitorial Squad members were healthy enough to be around to take points. "This is unacceptable!" she cried. "This is completely beyond the pale!"

She turned back to stare at the offending parchment and said quietly. "Oh, that bitch has _so_ got to go."

And thus did Dolores Umbridge seal her own fate.


	49. Woke Up This Morning

**A/N:** As a point of reference, I'm using the Department of Mysteries map created by Christopher Culley and available on The Harry Potter Lexicon.

 **A/N 2:** Fair warning: this chapter has a cliffhanger. After more than 700,000 words in this epic trilogy, I couldn't fit the climax of this story into a single chapter and still do it justice. The other half will appear on Tuesday at its regular time.

 **A/N 3:** Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. Bonnie in particular spent a lot of time this past week smoothing out the rough patches in this chapter. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "A Little Child Shall Lead Them" by White Squirrel. Hermione goes back in time in order to fix things — Harry may have won, but far too many died and far too much was destroyed in the process. The problem is, even Hermione will find it difficult to be taken seriously as a two-year-old.

 **Final Countdown: 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2!**

* * *

 **Chapter 49 - Woke Up This Morning**

 **Thursday, June 1, 1996, Morning. 7:00 AM.**

Jasmine woke with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and every fiber of her being felt on edge. These feelings didn't go away when she showered for the day. They didn't lessen when she dressed and strapped her wand to her forearm. Not even breakfast with her friends made her feel better.

"Hey, Hermione?" she asked. "Have you ever woken up and felt like you were about to have a great day? Like everything was going to go your way?"

"Yeah, I think so," Hermione answered. "Why?"

Jasmine looked up at the staff table to see the pink pseudo-headmistress smiling evilly at her and shivered. "Because I don't think today is going to be one of those days."

* * *

Dolores Umbridge ate her breakfast slowly, thinking about how to best proceed with her plans. Ever since Marietta Edgecomb had come to her last week to admit to the sorts of books which Potter had been distributing since last spring, she'd been trying to find a way to use that information.

 _It's a pity that Miss Edgecomb's mother made her burn those books over the summer, otherwise I'd already have all the evidence I need_ , Umbridge lamented. _Cornelius wants me to bait Potter into running to the Ministry before OWLs start on Monday, and preferably tonight; but his plan is so convoluted that it's absurd! I don't know what he was thinking, but clearly he can't cope without me there._

Umbridge took another sip of her tea as she eyed Jasmine Potter balefully. _No matter — my plan is much simpler and more likely to work. Soon I'll have the evidence to expel both of those brats, and then I'll be back at the Ministry where I belong. Soon... very soon..._ she thought with a predatory smile, _Potter and her pet mudblood will be permanently removed from our world, and we will once again have order and security under the guidance of the Ministry. I just need to interrogate some students…._

"Minerva, do you know where Severus is?" Umbridge asked abruptly.

McGonagall's faux civility seemed even frostier than usual this morning. "I'm afraid I don't know. He doesn't always attend breakfast."

"Very well, I'll have to go looking for him myself," Umbridge said. _If he has veritaserum, this will go a lot faster; if not, I'll have to get the evidence the hard way._

* * *

 **Thursday, June 1, 1996, Night. 10:00 PM.**

"See," Hermione was saying as they entered their dorm, "I told you there was nothing to worry about. Nothing happened all day."

"Hey, Jasmine," Parvati called out. "There's a strange bird with a package sitting on your bed. He's been there for a little while, I think."

When Jasmine got to her bed, she saw a large raven standing on a thick, square package wrapped in parchment and tied with string. "You just had to say something, didn't you?" Jasmine groaned.

"Well... it might not be bad..." Hermione said feebly, not sounding like she believed it herself.

The raven eyed Jasmine for a moment, then cawed loudly before flying out the dorm window. Both Jasmine and Hermione cast multiple spells on the package it had left behind, checking for any sort of hexes or curses.

When nothing dangerous turned up, Jasmine carefully opened it, finding a golden phoenix pendant, a small hand mirror, and a note. Something about the pendant raised a quiet alarm in the back of her mind, but she didn't have time to figure it out. "Tap the mirror with your wand and say 'activate' to use," she read aloud. She did so, and was horrified at the face that replaced her own.

"Well, it's about time," came the sibilant voice of Lord Voldemort. "You never call, you never write…."

"You!" Jasmine hissed. "What do you want?"

"It's what We already have that should concern you more at the moment," Voldemort said with a predatory smile. "Don't you recognize the little trinket that was included in the package?"

Jasmine frowned down at the pendant in her other hand, but realization slowly spread across her face. "Remus!" she whispered. "How did you—"

"How is hardly important," Voldemort interrupted. "What's important is what you're willing to do to get him back."

"What do you want?" Jasmine asked. Hermione shook her head violently, trying to tell Jasmine not to play his game.

Voldemort smiled thinly. "There's something in the Ministry that We want. Something you are quite capable of retrieving for Us, We assure you. Go there, get it, and bring it outside the muggle entrance before midnight, and you can have your pet werewolf back."

"How do we even know he's still alive?" Hermione jumped in to say before Jasmine could agree.

"The mudblood dares speak to Lord Voldemort!" came an outraged female voice from the other end of the connection.

"She dares, and she's right," Jasmine said. "If he's already dead, I'm not going anywhere."

There was a glint in Voldemort's eye as he said, "Very well, We can provide you with your proof... but it will cost you."

"Fine, I'll pay it," Jasmine said before Hermione could stop her.

The image on the mirror bounced around as the other end was repositioned, and in a moment they were viewing Remus Lupin, strapped to a wooden table and covered with lines of blood. In his face was carved the impact of hours of torture, but there was no doubt that he was alive.

"That can't be Remus!" Hermione hissed. "Tonight's a full moon, and he hasn't transformed!"

"It sounds as though the know-it-all hasn't done her homework," Voldemort sneered. "Werewolves only transform when they are hit by the light of the full moon. If they hide from it, they experience terrible pain that builds and builds as their body is prevented from transforming. We have of course been helping that along."

"Oh, no!" Hermione whispered.

"Satisfied?" Voldemort asked as he spun the mirror to face him again.

"Yes," Jasmine choked out.

"Good," Voldemort said as he spun the mirror back to Remus. "Now it's time to pay the price. Macnair!"

From off to the side they saw a silvery axe swing down and cut clean through the wrist of Remus' left hand. A blood-curdling scream was torn from him as he strained against his bonds in agony.

"Such a _beautiful_ sound. We never get tired of it," Voldemort said almost wistfully, chuckling softly to himself before looking into the mirror once again. "We didn't say that _you_ would have to pay the price, Potter. Without the light of the moon, the pain of that injury will be many times worse than normal."

"You _**bastard!**_ _"_ Jasmine spat in helpless fury, attracting the attention of the others in the dorm.

"We can sit here and trade insults all night, or you can go do what you need to do in order to free your werewolf," Voldemort said with a cruel smirk. "Or what's left of him. We must warn you, though, as long as he's here, We are going to have to allow Our followers to... _play_ with him. It would be unkind of Us not to."

"Fine!" Jasmine said, angrily brushing a few tears away. "What is it that you want?"

"A prophecy sphere," Voldemort answered. "It's in the Prophecy Room of the Department of Mysteries, down on the bottom level of the Ministry of Magic. It's located most of the way along row ninety-seven and is marked as being about the two of us. Hurry — you have less than two hours to bring it to the muggle entrance outside the Ministry, **alone** , or the werewolf dies. Painfully."

The connection was cut and Jasmine found herself staring at her own tear-streaked face.

"You know it's a trap," Hermione whispered.

"Of course it's a trap," Jasmine said. "But so what? I can't leave Remus like that."

"I didn't say you should," Hermione said. "I just want us to be prepared for what's coming." She then hurried over to her trunk and pulled out a small package.

"What's wrong?" Lavender asked.

"Can't talk, have to go," Jasmine said shortly as she turned to leave.

"Go where, specifically?" Hermione asked, a half step behind her.

"We'll use the floo in Fleur's office," Jasmine answered. "Maybe we'll be able to get there faster than he expects and turn the trap back on him."

"Floo Sirius first," Hermione insisted. "He can let the others know what's going on."

Out on the stairs to the girls dorms they encountered Gabrielle and Ginny, who were on their way to bed. Jasmine didn't stop, but Hermione quickly filled them in on what was going on. Gabrielle immediately ran for her dorm while Ginny sent a message to everyone else via her button, allowing Hermione to catch back up with Jasmine.

* * *

 **Thursday, June 1, 1996, Night. 10:15 PM.**

"I am sorry, but zere is no way to make a connection," Fleur said angrily. "Something is interfering with ze floo."

"What's the emergency?" Padma asked as she entered Fleur's quarters, most of the rest of the study group right behind her.

"Voldemort has captured Remus Lupin and will kill him if Jasmine doesn't get a prophecy sphere from the Ministry and hand it over personally," Hermione summarized. "We've got until midnight."

"I think we all know what that prophecy sphere says, too," Jasmine said grimly.

"My auntie—" Susan tried to suggest, but Jasmine cut her off.

"I'm sorry, but there's no time to contact her, convince her this is real, and get her to agree to the exchange — certainly not with me delivering it alone, like Voldemort is demanding. And that's assuming she could even get all that done behind Fudge's back."

"On top of that, the floo isn't working," Hermione added as Gabrielle entered, looking decidedly bulky under her school robes. She nodded to her sister, who ducked into her bedroom. "We tried to contact Sirius to let him know, but we can't connect. We also can't connect to the Ministry."

"Then we need to find some other way to get there," Susan said, making it clear that Jasmine and Hermione wouldn't be travelling alone, no matter what Voldemort wanted.

"Hey, we have another problem," Tracey said before the conversation could go any further. "I was already going to send out a message when yours came in. Pansy took me aside a little bit ago and said she was warned that something was going to happen in Hogwarts, probably tonight. She told me she was going to barricade herself in her dorm and that I should do the same."

"An attack? Here, like we originally assumed?" Hermione asked. "I was thinking that this thing with the Ministry was what we've been waiting for."

"Seems a bit audacious for him to attack both," Daphne agreed. "Maybe there will be a small attack here once we leave as a diversion to empty out the Ministry? Or after, if he thinks he'll control the Ministry somehow?"

"Then we'll warn people before we leave," Jasmine said. Before she could continue, the Grey Lady floated into Fleur's quarters.

"Professor Delacour?" she called out. "Dolores Umbridge has called for a mass meeting in the Great Hall."

"Now?" Fleur asked incredulously as she stepped out of her bedroom, still strapping on her golden armor.

The Grey Lady nodded. "She's calling in all students and all staff. She seems to be quite irate about some violation of the rules." She looked over at Jasmine and added, "I suspect it has to do with you, though I cannot be sure."

Jasmine groaned. "I do **not** have time for this!"

* * *

 **Thursday, June 1, 1996, Night. 10:30 PM.**

When Jasmine and her friends burst into the Great Hall, they interrupted Umbridge in the middle of what looked like had been a good rant. "There you two are!" she shouted. "It's about time!"

"What is it with everyone always thinking I'm late?" Jasmine grumbled as she strode towards Umbridge, who was standing where the staff table usually was. Around her were a number of exceptionally smug members of the Inquisitorial Squad. Off to the side stood McGonagall, Flitwick, and several uncomfortable-looking professors. Fleur did not join them.

"I found your books!" Umbridge shouted with glee as she waved a book above her head. "I finally found them! I was just informing all the students about how you've been corrupting them with evil, degenerate muggle ideas! They'll all have to go through intensive reeducation in order to undo all of the damage you've caused, you nasty little girls!"

Jasmine stole a quick glance to either side as she walked between the rows of students, all of them standing at attention where their house tables usually were. None of them looked happy, but the sight of Jasmine and her friends seemed to give them all a bit of encouragement.

"What are you on about, you ridiculous toad?" Jasmine said loudly.

Umbridge's eyes bulged at the defiance, and her voice began to turn shrill. "You, of course! You're trying to destroy our culture, our society, and our way of life with this filth! But I caught you! Yes, and hopefully before you caused too much damage! First I'll have you and that mudblood expelled from the school, then your magic will be bound so you can be banished from magical society, and finally I'll ensure that all the degenerate lies that you've been spreading are washed away — along with those who believe them, too, if need be."

Jasmine frowned as she stopped a few meters away. "Do you think you've got what it takes to follow through on that threat?" she asked.

"Oh, you won't be able to wiggle out of this," Umbridge insisted. "I made sure that the Ministry decrees were worded carefully this time. I now have abundant evidence of you having violated several of them, and that's more than enough to ensure your expulsion. No technicalities or loopholes will save you now!"

"I was thinking more about this saving me," Jasmine said as her wand shot into her hand. Instantly a banishing charm threw Umbridge into the wall behind her. Before her Inquisitorial Squad could react, stunners from Jasmine's friends downed them all, and they were quickly bound in magical ropes.

Jasmine walked up to the dazed Umbridge and leaned down to meet her gaze directly. "If I had time, I'd show you how angry you've made me," she said, and she could see the fear in the older witch's eyes. "Unfortunately, I have something that needs to be done at the Ministry, and you've already delayed me far too long." Incongruously, Umbridge's lips started to twist into a smile at those words, but it was wiped away an instant later when Jasmine cast _"Incarcerous!"_ on her.

She returned to her friends to find they had already been joined by the other staff members.

"Although I can understand your anger, I doubt you'll be able to get away with doing that without severe repercussions," McGonagall said as Jasmine came up to them.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I need to get going—"

"I know," McGonagall interrupted. "Miss Granger already informed us. Although I'd like to prevent you from leaving, I'm not sure I'd succeed. I'd certainly not be able to do that and prepare the castle for possible attack as well."

"Thank you, Professor," Jasmine said with a sigh of relief. "I didn't want to have to fight you on this."

"I care about Remus too," McGonagall reminded her softly.

"We'll need to get the students back to their dorms," Professor Sinistra suggested. "Then we can work out what security measures we can still implement even without the Headmaster."

"We've been training for weeks to help defend the castle," Ron piped up from the back of the group. "Me, Neville, and Blaise will stay and lead volunteers until aurors or someone else can get here to help."

"We're staying, too," Ginny said as she and Luna approached.

Jasmine looked from Ginny to Neville, then from Luna to Ron. "That's fine," she said. "I'd rather that no one endanger themselves by going with me, but I know that's not an argument I'll win."

"You're training her well," Luna remarked, giving Hermione a smile of approval. Then she looked past her to the bound Dolores Umbridge leaning against the wall. "Oh, goody — now we'll get pudding again!" she said brightly. As the conversation shifted back to the matter at hand, she surreptitiously flicked her wand at the pink witch, incanting _Maculae Sempiterna_ at her.

"What was that?" Ginny whispered.

"The perpetual pimple hex," Luna answered with a beatific smile that made Ginny's skin crawl. "Now she's a spotted pink toad."

"If you're adamant about leaving, all the confiscated brooms are locked up in Filch's office," Flitwick was saying. "You can fly to Hogsmeade, then floo to the Ministry from there, assuming the outage only affects Hogwarts. Come with me."

"We can lock zis in one of zose classrooms," Gabrielle announced, levitating Umbridge to bring her along.

Flitwick nodded as they all set off briskly. "Good idea — we don't want her in the way if something happens."

When they reached his office and began filing inside, Gabrielle took a detour to the classroom across the hall. "Get a broom for me, Fleur," she called over her shoulder, Umbridge's bound body floating ahead of her. Once inside, she cancelled the levitation charm abruptly, allowing Umbridge to fall painfully to the stone floor. Leaning over, she looked into Umbridge's angry eyes and said, "I know you are plotting revenge already. I know you will not let zis go, not until you harm or kill Jasmine. I've known zis about you almost since you arrived here."

Umbridge's brows furrowed as Gabrielle twirled her wand, renewing the charms that held the older witch immobile. "You should not assume, however, zat you will get ze chance," she said as she leaned down again, pulling her sword and pressing it to the other witch's neck, causing her acne-covered face to pale. "You would not even leave zis classroom alive, if I had ze time. But I will be back — of zat you can be certain."

* * *

 **Thursday, June 1, 1996, Night. 10:45 PM.**

While nine witches mounted eight brooms (Hermione refused to fly alone), Minerva McGonagall sent out three patronus messages summarizing the situation — one to Sirius, one to Dumbledore, and one to Amelia Bones. "That's all we can do for now," she said. "Hopefully the warning about something happening here was just to distract us."

While she continued to watch the witches as they headed towards Hogsmeade, even after she couldn't see them anymore, Flitwick turned to the two house elves that Jasmine and Hermione had called upon to help. He hadn't missed the scowl Hermione gave her girlfriend when they both arrived wearing muggle camouflage. "Anything suspicious on that marvelous map?" he asked.

"No, Littlest Professor, sir," Winky answered.

Neville barely managed to suppress a snort of laughter. "What about the students who don't volunteer to help or who are too young?" he asked.

"Their dorms would be safest, but I don't like the idea of splitting them up — that would be four places that we'd absolutely have to defend," Flitwick mused.

"What about keeping them in the Great Hall?" Bathsheda Babbling suggested. "We did that back when Sirius Black broke into the castle."

"Excellent idea!" Flitwick said. "They're already there anyway, too."

"We can't trust everyone there, though," Ron interjected. "Not just the Inquisitorial Squad, but also a lot of the Slytherins."

"Some of whom are missing," Blaise pointed out. "Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle aren't with the rest of our house, nor do they show up on the map."

"The safest thing to do would be to disarm the least trustworthy students, then lock them in the antechamber off the Great Hall," Flitwick responded. "Violet can keep an eye on them for us and use the other portraits to let us know if they do anything suspicious."

Flitwick turned to look at his long-time friend, who was still watching the sky. Ignoring the arguments in the background as a number of students were forced to give up their wands and move to a different room, he walked over to her and gently placed his hand on her elbow. She jumped slightly in surprise.

"Sorry," she said. "What do we need to do next?"

Flitwick smiled and shook his head. "You're here, but you're not really here, are you?" She looked at him in confusion, so he continued, "Your body is here, but your mind is with those nine young witches, am I right? And two of them in particular?"

McGonagall's cheeks reddened slightly. "I can't _not_ worry about them — not knowing what they are going into."

"Maybe you should be with them?"

"And leave my post?" McGonagall protested. "My place is here!"

"Your place is with your students," Flitwick pointed out, "and right now your students are divided. You won't be much good here if you are constantly worrying about the others."

"I still can't just up and leave—"

"I doubt that anything will happen here," Flitwick interrupted. "No one has successfully attacked Hogwarts — ever. I'd be concerned if You-Know-Who were going to attack personally, but doing so after specifically getting Miss Potter out of the way would be an admission that he's afraid of her, something he'd never do. Even sending in some Death Eaters after getting her out of the castle strikes me as unlikely, but if he does, we will have locked the castle down as much as we can without the Headmaster, and all the most vulnerable students will be in the castle's most secure room. Your other students won't be nearly as safe."

McGonagall's stern expression faltered as she looked back out the open doors towards Hogsmeade.

"Go, Minerva," Flitwick insisted. "I'll hold the castle until you return."

"But... are you sure?" she asked. Instead of saying anything, he simply picked up the broom which Hermione had refused to use and held it out to his colleague.

"Thank you," she said softly as she mounted it and sped off towards the village.

* * *

 **Thursday, June 1, 1996, Night. 11:00 PM.**

The first thing Jasmine noticed when she rolled out of the floo and into the Ministry of Magic was how quiet it was. When she had arrived here less than a year earlier, the atrium had been packed with witches and wizards; tonight, it was eerily empty.

"There should be a guard there," Susan said, pointing at the desk where Jasmine and Hermione had had their wands checked before their trial. The nine witches moved quietly and found no one there and no sign that anyone had been there for quite some time.

"This would have been a lot harder if we'd had to deal with guards," Susan said, "but I don't like the idea that someone else has already been here in order to 'help' us." Hannah and Tracey kept looking around nervously, their knuckles white with how tightly they were gripping their wands.

"We'll worry about that on the way back out," Daphne insisted. "We can probably assume that we'll be able to get down there easily enough — it's coming back that we're more likely to run into trouble."

"What's with the giant banner of Fudge?" Jasmine asked. "It wasn't here a year ago."

"My aunt mentioned it in one of her letters," Susan answered. "It's supposed to reassure people about the power and benevolence of the Ministry."

"It gives me the shivers," Hermione said, and the others all nodded in agreement.

They couldn't all fit into one lift, so they split up into two groups to ride down. On the way, Fleur and Gabrielle made one last check of their armor while Jasmine and Hermione each pulled out a small vial of liquid and put the final stage of their plan into motion.

Once there, Susan led them into a circular room which she said she'd heard her aunt talk about. "I'm not sure if even she knew how it works," Susan explained, "but based on things she's said, I might be able to figure out the next step."

It took three tries with the spinning room before Susan found something she recognized. "This looks like the room that deals with time," she said as she held the door open. "I think the prophecy room is somewhere nearby." All nine witches slipped into a room with all kinds of bizarre experiments laid out.

"I read about this room once," Padma said softly as Jasmine eyed all the devices. "I never expected that I'd visit it like this, though."

When Susan opened the single door at the far end of the time room, everyone gasped at the sight of rows and rows of glass spheres. "I guess this is it," Jasmine said as she boldly stepped through the doorway, unknowingly setting off a silent alarm that alerted several interested parties to a breach in the Department of Mysteries. Once all of the witches were through, the door stayed open for several seconds before closing.

* * *

Despite the massive size of the room, they found row ninety-seven fairly quickly, and it wasn't too much longer before they located the prophecy sphere they were looking for. Yet when they finally found it, Jasmine hesitated before grabbing it.

"What is it, Jas?" Hermione asked, scanning the room constantly for danger.

"It's just... if he wants this so badly, I'm not sure he should get it." Jasmine said. "What if I were to give him a different one instead?"

"Don't touch any of the others!" Susan hissed. "Only those mentioned in a prophecy can take them off the shelf. Anyone else who tries will go insane!" Jasmine yanked her hand back and exchanged a questioning look with Hermione.

"We need to give him _something_ in order to get Remus back!" Hermione insisted. "And time is running out!"

"I know, I know," Jasmine responded, "I just..."

"I told you she wouldn't be able to do it!" came a high-pitched female voice out of the gloom. The already-nervous witches tensed up even more as a dozen disillusioned Death Eaters appeared around them, most wearing silver masks. The one exception was the speaker, Bellatrix Lestrange. "Is the wittle witch afwaid?" she asked. "She should be!"

"Afraid of an insane witch like you?" Jasmine asked. "Hardly."

"Mind your mouth, half-blood," she shouted, taking a step forward, "and respect your betters! We are the chosen few of the Dark Lord, the ones tasked with cleansing our world of filth like you in order to restore Magic to its rightful place!"

Gabrielle frowned deeply at that, but she was distracted from her thoughts as Jasmine responded, "Being an insane witch who was chosen by an even more insane wizard isn't something I'd brag about."

"Shut it!" Bellatrix screamed, and only the Death Eater holding her back kept her from physically attacking. "You have no respect for magical blood, so how can you possibly respect Magic itself, much less understand the importance of protecting magical culture! Once vermin like you are exterminated, Magic will rule once again!"

"Settle down!" the tall wizard restraining her said. "We need her to get the prophecy sphere!"

"Is that you, Lucius?" Jasmine asked.

"How're the scars healing?" Hermione added. "Painfully, I hope."

Jasmine shot her a look as the wizard yanked off his silver mask, revealing that Lucius Malfoy's once aristocratic face had become horribly distorted with burn scars and that he no longer had his famous blonde locks. None of the younger witches could hide their gasps of horror and revulsion. "Shut up, mudblood," he spat before turning his attention to Jasmine. "See what you've done to me, you vile little witch? I'd torture you to death right now if our master didn't need you alive for this task!"

"Being surrounded by all of you doesn't make me think that I'll be allowed to exit the Ministry with the prophecy like Voldemort promised," Jasmine said, pausing briefly while Bellatrix screamed insults at her for daring to speak her lord's name aloud. "So tell me again why I should pick it up?"

"Because if you don't, you definitely won't see that animal again," Lucius said. "And until you do, you have several friends here who can suffer greatly for your defiance. Starting with your pet mudblood there."

Jasmine turned to look at Hermione. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment before Jasmine asked, "Boom?"

"Boom."

"Always a big boom." Jasmine sighed as all the witches cast a wandless protection spell on their heads.

"Let me have at them first," one of the wizards pleaded. "I'd prefer to start with Potter, but I promise to leave her alive! I'd love to—"

No one ever found out what Amycus Carrow would have loved to do because a bronze sword pierced straight through his brain before it could form another word. The sword jerked itself free and flew back into Gabrielle's hand as the body crumpled to the floor. "Amycus!" shrieked the witch next to him, collapsing to her knees and clutching at his lifeless form. The other Death Eaters were briefly stunned at the unexpected violence, giving Jasmine and Hermione a chance to raise their wands straight up into the air.

 _"_ _ **Fulgur Maximum!"**_ Hermione cried.

 _"_ _ **Tono Grandissime!**_ _"_ Jasmine shouted at the same moment.

The flash was enough to blind the Death Eaters temporarily; the thunderous sound of the second spell knocked them off their feet and deafened them. It would have done the same to the young witches, too, if they hadn't shielded their faces and crouched slightly in anticipation.

One unexpected consequence of the thunderclap was the damage it did to the nearby shelves and prophecy spheres. Some of the closest shelves were pushed back hard enough by the sonic wave that they tipped over, starting a domino effect in all directions that would cause hundreds more shelves to crash into each other. Many nearby spheres were blown off their shelves entirely, and Hermione had to dive for the one they had come there to get, catching it mere inches before it shattered against the stone floor.

"Here, maybe you should take this," she said a little shakily, handing the sphere to Jasmine.

"My auntie is going to be _so_ mad at me," Susan moaned as she witnessed the near-total destruction of one of the most important rooms in the Ministry of Magic.

"Maybe she'll just take it out of your allowance?" Tracey suggested.

"Escape!" Hermione called out, and Jasmine immediately cast _"_ _ **Fumus Maximus!**_ _"_ sending thick black smoke everywhere. The others crouched low and cast _"_ _ **Lacero!**_ _"_ at shin-level. Screams from all around them let them know they had connected, and they all started running back the way they came. Yet when they reached the door they'd originally entered through, it was sealed against them and none of their spells could get it open. Once more, Jasmine sent black smoke around them as they ran along the wall, looking for a second exit.

By the time they found another door, they could all hear enraged voices coming closer in the smoke. Jasmine and Hermione, who were in the front of the group, raised their wands and had curses on their lips when the door in front of them opened... then almost collapsed in relief when they found it was Minerva McGonagall.

"Come on, all of you," she ordered, holding the door open as the witches raced through. "I've already notified the Order," she said as she sealed the door. "I'm wearing a pendant that will lead them right to us."

Jasmine blasted a nearby desk while Hermione sent the rest on ahead to see if the way was clear, then the two got to work transfiguring the debris into Asian giant hornets. Gabrielle and Fleur stood guard.

"What do I key them on?" Hermione asked as she worked to layer in the compulsion charms.

"Hmmm... I guess adults wearing black," Jasmine suggested as dozens and dozens of vicious-looking insects began to form out of the wood splinters.

"Yeah, the Order members tend to wear colors," Hermione said, "but I'll add in a preference for silver masks, since most of the Death Eaters were still wearing those things when we saw them last."

Jasmine nodded, and by the time they were done Padma had returned to let them know that the way seemed to be clear until the next room. The pounding had already started on the sealed door when they ran, making their way through a massive room that seemed to be focused on astronomy. When they got to the far side, they heard the previous door crash open, followed almost immediately by screaming.

"Not the eyes! Not the eyes!" was the last thing they heard before they closed and sealed the new door. They turned and found themselves in a room dominated by tanks filled with creatures that looked like large brains with tentacles.

"I don't know what those things are," Daphne said uneasily, "but somehow I think it would be a good idea to stay as far away from them as possible."

"Won't get any argument from me," Tracey muttered as McGonagall led them to the door she'd come through earlier.

"This is the spinning circular room," she said as she opened the door, only to see more than a dozen Death Eaters standing in the center.

 _"_ _ **Sphaera Ignia!**_ _"_ Jasmine shouted as McGonagall slammed the door closed. They couldn't see the effects of the meter-wide ball of fire as it impacted the group, but they could hear the screams.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Hannah mumbled as McGonagall sealed the door, then led them all to the only other exit from the room.

"Just remember," Susan told her, "better them than us. They chose to attack; it's our right to defend ourselves."

They all dashed through the final door, taking them into a room with stone steps and seating leading down to a circular area; in the middle was a raised dais that had a strange stone arch. Hanging from it were tattered cloth curtains that swayed as if in a breeze, despite the absence of any wind at all.

"Don't get too close to that," McGonagall warned. "That's the Veil of Death. It used to be an execution device because anyone who passes through it is immediately transported to the realm of the dead."

"My auntie never mentioned this," Susan said.

"Little wonder," Padma remarked. "That's just too creepy."

Hermione's head shot up. "What's wrong?" Jasmine asked her.

"I don't know," Hermione answered, looking around the room in confusion. "I thought I heard something."

"Miss Potter! Miss Granger!" McGonagall called out. "We need to keep moving! The other door is over—"

Just then, the door McGonagall was pointing at exploded and a half dozen Death Eaters stormed in, many with scorched and smoking cloaks. All the witches turned to face them and started backing away, but before they could do anything, Hermione was suddenly grabbed from behind. Her arm was cruelly wrenched up behind her back and her wand easily plucked from her nerveless fingers.

"Got you, mudblood!" said the wizard triumphantly, and Hermione turned her head to look into the lidless eyes of Lucius Malfoy. She felt her gorge rise at seeing him so close. He gave an especially vicious twist to her arm, drawing a gasp of pain from her as she was forced to her knees.

Jasmine and the others then realized that the Death Eaters they'd been fleeing had snuck in behind them while the reinforcements had arrived in front. They were now surrounded.

"Surrender the prophecy, Potter!" Lucius demanded. Bellatrix cackled, though it lacked its usual gleeful tone because she and the other six who had made it that far were covered in angry red blotches, courtesy of the hornets. Jasmine looked around for some alternative, but Lucius wasn't going to give her the chance to find one. "Don't try anything or I'll kill her. And if you don't give up the prophecy to me now, I'll do far, far worse to her."

" **Let her go!** " McGonagall roared, and Fleur had to hold Gabrielle back from hurling herself at Lucius.

The wizard simply laughed at them. "I no longer have to take orders from _you,_ you harridan," he sneered. "And you've only delayed the inevitable by coming here."

"What do you mean?"

"By now, my son and far more of the Dark Lord's servants will have taken over Hogwarts," he declared, "Even now, they should be engaged in the glorious task of cleansing the school of its filth and vermin."

"What about Remus Lupin?" Jasmine asked. "I was promised him in return for this thing."

Lucius shook his head. "You lost any claim on the beast when you defied us. Now you're bargaining for the mudblood alone."

While Lucius was monologuing, Hermione had realized something. When she caught Jasmine's attention, she flicked her gaze to where her hand was. Jasmine's eyes widened.

"OK," she announced as she lowered her wand. "Just don't hurt her." The other witches lowered their wands as well, confused but willing to follow Jasmine's lead.

Lucius smirked in pleasure at his easy victory, but when Hermione whispered, _"Emasculo,"_ his expression shifted to horror... and then the pain hit. His hostage forgotten, he clutched at his crotch where a large, dark stain was forming; bright red began seeping through his fingers. Hermione caught up her wand as it clattered to the floor.

"Thank you, Walburga!" Jasmine murmured as she dove to join her friends.

Lucius' howl of agony as he toppled over distracted his fellow Death Eaters even as the young witches all began casting violent spells at the adults. Lacking any suitable materials for transfiguration, McGonagall swiftly yanked out one of her own hairpins and transformed it into a barricade in front of the girls. She then took up a position at their backs with Fleur and Gabrielle to cover them from the rear.

The confused free-for-all only lasted a couple of minutes before several members of the Order of the Phoenix rushed in: Albus Dumbledore and Sirius, followed closely by Bill Weasley, Hestia Jones, and Mad-Eye Moody.

"Minerva," Dumbledore called out, "we must get these students to safety!"

"That's not the plan!" Jasmine hissed to Hermione before she was forced to stop casting a spell and rolled to avoid a killing curse. "He'd better not mess this up by trying to save us!"

"If it comes to that, we'll just have to deal with it," Hermione said after casting a fireball at the back of a Death Eater who was preoccupied with Moody. "Morgana knows that not much else has been to plan so far."

The Death Eaters were now outnumbered, but they were vicious fighters who didn't hesitate to use Unforgivables, so the Order and the coven were kept mostly on the defensive. Nearby benches exploded in a shower of stone as deflected spells flew wildly. The students had formed a defensive ring on the lowest level, interlocking shields while some cast offensive spells and others levitated debris to block Unforgivables. Around them the Death Eaters and the Order fought up and down the stone seating, gradually thinning each other's numbers.

Dumbledore was a whirlwind of magic as he tried to protect everyone at once. First he was in the midst of the students, transfiguring more barricades. Next he was at the top of the stone steps, helping Bill before he was overwhelmed by a group of five Death Eaters.

Jasmine was never able to piece together exactly what happened next. She knew she heard a scream behind her and turned to see Barty Crouch Jr. pointing his wand at her, a confused expression on his face. Then he toppled over, his back a smoking ruin and an angry Minerva McGonagall standing behind him. Jasmine thought she heard Sirius call out, "Good one, Minnie!" from somewhere near the archway, and when she turned she saw a masked Death Eater shout _" **Avada Kedavra!** "_

His wand wasn't pointed at her, though. It was pointed at Sirius.

Jasmine wanted to scream, but there was no time. Suddenly there was a flash of purple robes as Albus Dumbledore was there beside him, silently summoning a large piece of rock to block the lethal green spell that had been intended for Sirius. The stone caught the spell and blew apart, but as the shattered remnants flew back into the old wizard's face, he lost his footing against the top step of the dais and fell backwards towards the Veil.

" **Albus!** " Sirius shouted, reaching out with his free hand, but it was already too late.

For a timeless instant there was only his surprised expression as the Veil parted for the headmaster. Yet just before he disappeared completely, his features relaxed, and Jasmine saw something that almost looked like contentment written there. Then he was gone.

This time she did scream, and she hardly gave it any thought when her wand whipped in the direction of the Death Eater, casting _"_ _ **Lacero!**_ _"_ at his head. Hermione was already beside her, shouting _"_ _ **Confringo!**_ _"_ at the same wizard. He twisted away, avoiding the explosive blasting hex but not the cutting curse as Jasmine's spell sliced across the side of his head, removing skin and hair before causing his mask to fall away. When he stood straight again, everyone could see the shocked and bloody face of Severus Snape.

"No!" McGonagall cried as she and Hermione began casting furiously at Snape. Jasmine joined them an instant later, and together the three of them pummeled the former professor with a relentless hail of spellfire.

Yet in their rage they had forgotten about Bellatrix. The witch darted out from behind the archway and screamed _"_ _ **Bombarda!**_ _"_ catching Minerva squarely. She was flung hard into the far wall, where her head impacted with an audible crack. She slumped to the floor.

As the assault against him faltered, Snape made full use of the respite and fled for the door he and the other reinforcements had come through earlier. Bellatrix could also see that the fight was a lost cause and wasted no time making for the other door out of the Death Chamber, the one she and the original group of Death Eaters had come through.

Gabrielle was up in a flash, chasing after her while Hermione ran just as quickly after Snape. Jasmine and Sirius made to follow, but she paused and looked over at Minerva, who had begun to stir. Then she glanced anxiously back at the door.

Sirius hesitated only a second. "You go on, kitten," he said, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. "I'll take care of her. I'll be along as soon as I can." Jasmine shot him a grateful look and took off after Hermione at a dead run.

Sirius began making his way over to McGonagall. Moody was busy securing the downed Death Eaters; Bill and Hestia were nowhere to be seen. The coven members were bloodied and bruised, but seemed to have the remaining fight well in hand.

Fleur and Daphne had just taken out the last opponent when Fleur looked around and noticed that her two charges were missing. She looked up frantically at Sirius, who pointed to the door Snape had run out. With a blistering stream of French curses, she sprinted for the exit, the other witches two steps behind her.

He had reached Minerva when Moody approached. "The Death Eaters are all stunned and bound," he said shortly. "Jones and Weasley are unconscious, but I think they'll be alright until we can get some healers down here. I'm going to help our young Miss Delacour against that insane bitch." Without waiting for a reply, he stumped off at a surprisingly good clip.

Sirius looked down at the woman slumped against the wall in front of him. "Let me help you up, Minnie," he said, but she raised a hand to stop him.

"Don't you dare use that name, you scamp," she said. "I'm alright — nothing broken, I've merely had the wind knocked out of me. And a bit of a headache," she added, frowning as she rubbed at her temple.

"Are you sure? You don't look very good." He knelt beside her and frowned in concern.

"And you're a fine sight yourself, Sirius Black," she said tartly, eyeing his scorched robes and the blood on his face. When he refused to be put off, she relented and patted his arm. "I'm fine, lad. I'm wearing one of the basilisk tunics. Now go — you need to catch up to your goddaughter, and I'll only slow you down."

"Alright..." he said, sounding reluctant even though he obviously wanted to get to Jasmine. "I'll send down the first healer I see."

"Fine, fine," she said with a dismissive wave as he stood and ran out of the room. She took a few deep breaths and began gingerly testing her limbs. Her protestations to Sirius aside, she had hit that wall pretty hard, and she wasn't entirely sure everything still worked properly.

Once she was satisfied that it was safe to get up, she tried to stand, but immediately collapsed back when a blinding pain lanced through her skull. Deep inside, something had indeed broken.


	50. For Whom the Bell Tolls

**A/N:** As a point of reference, I'm using the Department of Mysteries map created by Christopher Culley and available on The Harry Potter Lexicon.

 **A/N 2:** Some readers were confused after reading the last chapter, thinking that perhaps Sirius died instead of Dumbledore. This was my fault because after introducing Dumbledore and the others into the scene, I only drew attention to Sirius, making it easy to forget about Dumbledore. I've rewritten that portion, and hopefully it's clearer now.

Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. Bonnie in particular has spent a lot of time over the last week editing this, so if you enjoy it be sure to let her know!

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "Back to the World" by MuggleBeene. It's been seven years since he killed Voldemort, and Harry's spent much of that time wandering the world, uncertain about what to do with this life. Eventually he finds himself saving a young woman from drowning, someone he happens to know, and she in turn saves him. One shot, Harry/Gabrielle.

 **Final Countdown: 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1!**

* * *

 **Chapter 50 - For Whom the Bell Tolls**

 **Hogwarts. Thursday, June 1, 1996, Night. 11:00 PM.**

Filius Flitwick stood in the open front doors and watched his colleague fly towards Hogsmeade for as long as he was able to see her, and then for a little bit longer for good measure. As he turned back into the castle, he heard a distant howl that made him stop. When an answering howl came, this time from much closer, his blood froze. "Werewolves!" he cried.

"Don' close the doors yet!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Let me get my things!" He ran out of the castle towards his hut.

"I heard werewolves out there," Flitwick said at Aurora Sinistra's questioning look. "It seems likely that some sort of attack is planned after all, but with werewolves out on the grounds and the floos blocked, we can't evacuate the students."

"So we're trapped," she concluded with a worried frown. "The question is, why do they want us trapped in here? Wouldn't getting us out of here make taking over the castle easier?"

"Not if they want more than just the castle itself," Flitwick said darkly. "Capturing all of these students would be a great victory if someone wanted to use them as hostages."

"Which makes stopping them all the more important."

"Maybe I shouldn't have encouraged Minerva to leave..." he muttered as he watched Hagrid come running back in, now with his crossbow in his hands and a large axe strapped to his back.

"Ah'm ready," he announced, and Flitwick waved his wand at the large wooden doors, causing them to slam shut. The clanking thud as the locks slid home echoed throughout the entrance hall.

Just then, Neville came out of the Great Hall and closed the doors behind him. "Everyone in the first four years, everyone who'd rather not fight, most of the Slytherins, and all of the Inquisitorial Squad are inside," he reported. "Both Professor Babbling and Professor Burbage are in there to watch over them. The Squad members and anybody else we can't trust have also been disarmed and locked in the annex room off the Great Hall."

"Good," Flitwick said in satisfaction as he pulled his wand and began casting spells on the doors that Neville had just closed, sealing them tightly just as he knew the other two professors must be doing from the other side.

"No one I talked to knew where the missing Slytherins went — Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle," Blaise said.

"Hopefully everyone else came when we were all summoned," Ron added. "We don't have time to go hunting anyone down."

Flitwick nodded. "We'll have to keep an eye out for those boys, but if they start casting at you, treat them as hostiles." The howls of multiple werewolves could now be heard through even the castle's massive front doors. They sounded much closer.

"Professor..." Ron said slowly, obviously working something out in his head, "if anyone gets inside the castle, we can't let them get to the Great Hall. So we need to meet them somewhere else. Anywhere else."

"Agreed, Mr. Weasley, but what do you propose?" Sinistra asked. "We can't ambush them if we don't know where they intend to come in."

"Right, but we can guess where they might be heading," he said. "I'll take one group to the seventh floor, near Gryffindor — it's a likely target. So's the entrance to the Headmaster's office. If you send another group to the third floor, putting them between here and Gryffindor, then both can move to intercept any attackers who get inside, regardless of where or how they enter. Hopefully we can keep them busy long enough for help to arrive."

Flitwick looked around at the students who had volunteered to defend the castle. They were too few and far too young, but it was all they had standing between the youngest students and whatever enemy had been set against them. He blew out a breath. "I don't like spreading our defense so thin, Mr. Weasley, but that may be our best option. To make it work, though, we'll need some way to communicate. Otherwise, neither group will know where the incursion occurs."

"Oh, Dobby will do!" the house elf piped up, but Winky smacked him on the back of the head.

"Dobby is being in charge of Missy Jazzy's map," she scolded him. "Dobby be needed here." She hesitated, a fearful look in her eyes, but then she straightened and addressed Flitwick directly. "Winky be taking messages, Littlest Professor sir."

"Thank you, Winky," Flitwick said gravely. "That will do nicely. Mr. Weasley, please take a group to the seventh floor."

"I'll go with you," Luna said, moving to stand resolutely next to Ron. He seemed surprised but happy to have her help.

"I'll take a group to the third," Neville volunteered.

"Not without me," declared Ginny as she stepped up next to him. She gazed defiantly at her brother, daring him to object. For a moment it looked as though Ron might reflexively do just that, but then he looked down at Luna, a thoughtful expression on his face. In the end he simply nodded once at Ginny. Luna smiled approvingly.

"Fine," Flitwick responded. "Mr. Zabini, you can help coordinate the students here." Blaise nodded stoically.

"I'll go to the seventh floor as well," Sinistra said. "Better to have at least one staff member with them. I can also send out some owls while I'm there, though I don't know if they'll reach help in time."

"I'll accompany the group on the third floor," Sprout said.

"And I'll get the hospital wing ready," Poppy announced. "We're sure to need it before the night is over."

"Does anyone know where Severus is?" Flitwick asked with a frown.

"I haven't seen him all day," Madam Hooch answered as she followed Poppy to prepare for the injured.

Flitwick shook his head resignedly. "Hagrid, I want you to stand by the doors to the Great Hall. You'll be the last line of defense there."

"Righ'," the half-giant said as he set his axe against the doors and a large barrel of crossbow bolts next to him. He planted himself with his back to the doors, loaded crossbow in hand.

Flitwick then turned to the four house ghosts and instructed them to patrol in different areas, with additional orders to report back if they saw or heard anything of importance.

* * *

Ron and Luna led their group of students up to the seventh floor while Neville and Ginny's group set off for the third. On the way, they divided themselves up into three-person teams to coordinate their spellwork.

The third floor didn't have any vital targets except the hospital wing, but Neville's group took up positions near the statue of a humpbacked witch that he knew to be a secret passage into the castle. On the seventh floor, Ron's group placed themselves in the hall outside the Gryffindor common room; there was nothing there to defend, but if they could delay and harass any invaders, they would buy time.

"What's going on?" the Fat Lady asked with concern.

"We think Hogwarts is going to be attacked," Luna explained. "We're not sure, but since Gryffindor is a likely target, we're setting up here to make things difficult for them."

The portrait stood up a bit straighter. "Well, they won't get through me!" she said staunchly.

"A battle, you say?" came a voice from the other side of the corridor, and Ron saw that Sir Cadogan had decided to take a stroll through the area. "Splendid! I haven't fought in a good battle in centuries! Fear not, for I shall lead the cavalry charge that will break the back of our enemy's forces!"

"Um... right, thanks," Ron said dubiously, then went back to positioning his teams in the darkened alcoves along the corridor. He had no sooner gotten that done when Winky appeared next to him with a loud pop.

"Mister Wheezy!" she cried. "Bad wizards be coming out of Come and Go Room! Some be heading for Headmaster's office, some be heading here!" Then she was gone.

Ron let everyone know what direction the Death Eaters were coming from and moved students out of alcoves that were too close.

"Come and Go room?" Sinistra asked.

"It's a magical room that the elves use for supplies," Ron replied a bit evasively as he watched his brothers and Lee Jordan run to the intersection which the invaders would be coming through shortly. "We've used it for training. I have no idea how the Death Eaters could use it to get into the castle, though. It only ever has one door."

When the twins returned, he grabbed one by the arm. "Oi! What are you doing?"

"Just a little welcoming present," his brother answered smugly.

"Disillusioned trip wires when they come down this corridor," the second twin explained.

"Plus a timed delay on one of our newest prototypes, placed about 5 meters further back around the corner," the first continued.

"I just wish we'd had more time to work on getting the alligators right," the second lamented.

Ron wanted to ask what they meant by that, but the noise of boots hitting stone told him they were out of time, so they took up their positions. Peeking out, Ron witnessed about a dozen Death Eaters round the corner and trip over something invisible, sending them all sprawling to the ground.

"Now!" Ron shouted, and a barrage of brightly colored curses assailed the fallen and stumbling invaders. Before Ron could assess the situation, he heard splashes and screaming from around the corner and looked at his brothers questioningly.

"Portable swamp," the first twin said with a grin.

"Sounds like the alligators are working properly after all," the second said with an even bigger grin.

"Unfortunately, that was our only one."

"Take that, you knave!" Sir Cadogan shouted from around the corner as someone screamed.

Ron gulped, wondering if perhaps he should feel sorry for the Death Eaters now.

* * *

"Oh, I say, good show, Mr. Weasley!" Flitwick exclaimed as he watched the map over Dobby's shoulder. "Good show indeed." He had no idea what they'd done, but he could tell by the movement of the names that it had clearly been effective, taking out several Death Eaters and stopping their advance cold, at least briefly.

Shifting his gaze, he watched the second group of invaders gather around the entrance to the Headmaster's office, presumably attacking the guardian gargoyle in an attempt to gain entrance. _Good luck with that_ , he thought with a mirthless chuckle. _The defenses there are among the strongest in the entire castle. Even better, the more time you waste there, the less of a threat you are to the students._

"Professor!" came the voice of a soppy-looking witch in one of the entrance hall portraits. "Several of the students on the seventh floor have been hurt!"

Flitwick looked back at the area around Gryffindor and found that the Death Eaters had gotten past whatever had initially impeded them and were now making their way slowly down the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room. Beyond the active defenders and around a corner were the names of several students, all unmoving.

He looked around for the female house elf and saw that she had returned from delivering her earlier messages. "Winky, can you and any of the castle's elves who are willing take those injured students to the hospital wing?"

She examined the map carefully, then looked up at the diminutive professor and nodded before disappearing. _Merlin, I hope she gets to them in time_ , he fretted.

Flitwick was growing alarmed at how many Death Eaters had apparently gotten into the castle — and how many were still coming in — but he was distracted from that problem when the howling, thumping, and scratching outside the castle's outer doors increased significantly. He'd seen at least three dozen names gathered around the outside of the door, including one he recognized all too well: Fenrir Greyback.

Flitwick scrambled to reinforce his earlier defensive spells while Professor Vector transfigured nearby items to create protective cover for them. Looking closely, he could see the doors shake under the werewolves' attacks. _I don't know how long the doors will hold, but Greyback and his pack simply_ _ **cannot**_ _be allowed into the castle._

* * *

Winky almost howled in grief when she and five other volunteers popped in front of a dozen crying and injured students. She had never thought of herself as brave, but she screwed up her courage and tried to reassure their charges as the elves each picked one student to transport back to the hospital wing before returning to get the rest.

Once all the injured had been moved, she returned to the seventh floor, despite how scared she was from the noise and spells, because she knew her help would be needed again.

And she knew she had to be brave for her Missy Hermy.

* * *

 **Hogwarts. Thursday, June 1, 1996, Night. 11:30 PM.**

Ron looked around and finally ordered all the remaining teams to start retreating down the stairs while he, Luna, and Sinistra provided cover. Reinforcements sent by Neville had helped for a bit, but the Fat Lady had run off shortly after the battle started, and the increasing use of Unforgivables by the Death Eaters was overtaxing Professor Sinistra's ability to conjure solid shields to protect the students.

When Sinistra accompanied the last defenders down the stairway to the sixth floor, Ron and Luna were left on either side of the doorway on the seventh floor landing. Ron's primary cover was a statue of Lachlan the Lanky, though it was being gradually demolished by Death Eater spellfire. Every time a spell hit the statue but didn't do anything, Ron was grateful for not being pelted with chunks of stone; yet he knew from Jasmine's training that these must be spells intended to harm _people_ rather than _things_ — spells like organ-rotting and blood-boiling curses.

It wasn't a comforting thought.

Another large chunk of Lachlan the Lanky exploded behind him, and when Ron opened his eyes again, he saw the staircase start to move away. If he remembered correctly, it was going to shift from the seventh floor down to the fourth, leaving them caught between Death Eaters and a long drop all the way down to the Entrance Hall.

"Luna!" he called out across the doorway, pointing to the stairway that was slowly grinding out of reach. "Jump!"

She looked at the moving stairs then back at Ron. "You first!" she shouted, firing off another spell to cover his retreat.

Ron rolled his eyes in exasperation but didn't object, only taking time to stow his wand. As a volley of spells impacted around him, he bolted and leapt almost two meters towards the top of the moving stairs. When he landed he crashed into the battered railing and caused some of it to break away, spinning off into space. A quick glance beyond the edge he'd nearly tumbled over told him that Sinistra had gotten the teams to the fourth floor already and they were moving fast.

Ron spun on his knees. "Luna, **now**!" he yelled.

With a final round of hexes sent off, she sprinted for the ever-widening gap. Yet just as she started to leap, a blast of spellfire shattered the stone beneath her feet and fouled her jump. Ron could tell immediately that she wouldn't make it and dove to grasp her outstretched hand. She cried out as he arrested her fall, then reached up with her other hand and held on tight as she swung precariously with nothing between her and the ground floor.

Before he could haul her up, spells sizzled in the air around him. Looking up, he saw Draco Malfoy standing on the landing they'd just left, wand clasped in a silver hand and a maniacal grin on his face. "Say goodbye to your looney girlfriend, Weasel!" he taunted. Pointing his wand squarely at Ron, he cried, _"_ _ **Avada Ked**_ — _"_

 _"_ _ **Bombarda!**_ _"_ came a shout from below, and the landing under Malfoy's feet exploded, sending him spiraling into the empty air. His screams echoed off the walls the entire way to the stone floor beneath them, as did the dull thud of his body when it finally hit.

Ron looked to where the spell had come from and saw Ginny and Neville standing on the third-floor landing, right beneath the fourth-floor landing that was their destination. Ginny's wand was dancing madly, firing off spells at the doorway they'd left while Neville had his hand out, ready to receive Luna. Ron heaved and managed to swing her into Neville's arms, then he slid off the stairs to drop next to them while Ginny continued to give them cover.

"Thanks, Gin," he said with a wan smile as he wiped the blood from his face. Pulling out his wand once more, he cast repeatedly at the figures near the ruined doorway above, giving Luna and Neville cover to continue the descent.

"I'm just sorry it wasn't his father," Ginny said darkly before moving out herself.

The four Gryffindors leapfrogged in this manner down to the entrance hall, and while they managed to avoid serious injury, the superior numbers of the Death Eaters kept them on the defensive the entire way. They probably would have been overtaken if Peeves hadn't been zooming around, throwing handfuls of dungbombs at the Death Eaters to distract them.

* * *

With the invaders just two flights away by the time the last students got back, Flitwick had been forced to send the house elves back into the classroom hallway for their own safety. Fortunately Dobby had been willing to lend him the map. Most of the students were in the hall as well, though a few Gryffindors and Mr. Zabini had joined the other professors at the hall entrance, firing a barrage of hexes at the stairs.

Hagrid was trying his best to take some out with his crossbow, but there were so many that he spent most of his time behind the cover that Septima Vector had created and was struggling to maintain. Flitwick himself was being pressed hard — he could move quickly, but with so many spells raining down around him, there were few safe places to roll or jump to.

Soon Death Eaters were in the Entrance Hall itself, and while a few headed for Flitwick and Hagrid, most began assaulting the main doors to the castle with spellfire, trying to crack them open.

"Don't let them open the doors!" Flitwick shouted above the din of the fighting. "If they do, they'll let in the werewolves!"

* * *

 **Ministry of Magic. Friday, June 1, 1996, Night. 11:30 PM.**

Gabrielle didn't know what Bellatrix was trying to accomplish by running back in the direction she had come from earlier, but she didn't much care. All that mattered was that she was one of the most evil and dangerous of Voldemort's followers. She had just hurt Professor McGonagall, someone Jasmine and Hermione looked up to as a mentor, and as long as she lived she would be a continuing danger to everyone.

The two witches traded spellfire as they moved from office to office in the time room, blowing up desks, chairs, and file cabinets while tearing gouges and holes through the walls. Gabrielle was far less experienced than Bellatrix, but she was also smaller and quicker, allowing her to dodge the older witch's spells while casting more of her own. The combination of Amazi armor and basilisk-hide tunic also protected her from the few spells that got through.

"You do have some skills," Bellatrix conceded with a delighted cackle as she cast an organ-rotting curse followed by a bone-shattering curse, "but no mere creature will ever truly be a match for a pureblood. Magic has granted us power so we can purify the world of abominations like you."

"Azkaban has driven you insane!" Gabrielle retorted, unable to believe that any sensible person could think such things, yet taken aback by the fervor with which she expressed her beliefs. Rolling to the side, she threw her sword and followed up with several blasting curses.

"You don't want to admit the truth," Bellatrix said, neatly evading the attacks and pressing the advantage when Gabrielle faltered. "Pureblood families have been blessed by Magic, and in return we preserve respect for Magic through magical traditions, culture, and society. Everybody knows this. Where else do you think we purebloods come from?"

"From inbreeding," Gabrielle growled, stung by Bellatrix's words and suddenly feeling a need to justify her own beliefs. "I know for a fact zat Jasmine and Hermione have been chosen by Magic to fulfill a prophecy. **Zey** were chosen by Magic, not you!" She levitated the debris of a smashed desk and banished it all at the other witch.

"Impossible!" Bellatrix cried, now faltering herself and having trouble dodging the lethal pieces of wood, most of which became embedded in the wall behind her. "Only purebloods have the blessings of Magic! Mudbloods, half-bloods, and creatures like you are nothing more than vermin to be exterminated! You know nothing of Magic. Nothing! I have witnessed the power wielded by the Dark Lord, power he possesses by the will of Magic itself. I have faith that he is fulfilling the will of Magic for the future of the magical community!"

 _She's insane_ , Gabrielle reminded herself. _Insane and twisted. She's just using these words to justify hurting others — to justify hurting Jasmine!_

She threw her sword again, this time slightly to Bellatrix's left; when the Death Eater slid right, she was hit by the silent banishing charm Gabrielle had cast a half second later.

 _ **I**_ _was chosen to be the right hand of Hekate incarnate!_ Gabrielle exulted. _**I**_ _was chosen to eliminate those who would threaten her!_ She watched in satisfaction as the older witch hit the wall hard and was impaled by several pieces of wood still protruding there from her earlier attack.

Bellatrix looked down in disbelief as her wand slipped from her numb fingers. "No," she croaked, blood starting to drip from her mouth. "It can't be. I was chosen to be the right hand of the Dark Lord!... I was chosen to eliminate the... the vermin who defile... our world..." Shock was still in her eyes as the breath sighed out of her and her head slumped forward in death.

Gabrielle had collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily, but her gaze jerked upwards at the witch's dying words.

"Are you alright, lass?" Moody asked as he stumped up from behind. He eyed the Death Eater impaled on the wall and grunted in approval. "I thought you would need help, but it looks like I underestimated you as much as she did." His brow furrowed at her lack of response, and he tried again, enunciating carefully: "Are... you... injured?"

"No," Gabrielle said softly as she accepted Moody's hand to help her stand. "I... I don't understand."

"Understand what?"

"Understand... her, I guess," she mumbled, still breathing a little heavily from the fight and aching in several places where Bellatrix had scored a hit.

"She was a monster," Moody said flatly as he led her away. "She might have been insane, too — not that that would have excused her actions."

"Was she?" Gabrielle asked, starting to doubt herself in a way she'd never done before. "She had faith in her cause. She believed her cause was so righteous zat hurting others who stood in its way was just."

"So?" Moody said. "Believing something doesn't make it right."

Gabrielle looked up at the grizzled old auror, suddenly feeling as young and uncertain as she knew she appeared. _I have faith in my cause, too,_ she wanted to say. _I was chosen by the goddesses! I have so much faith that it sometimes feels like it will consume me._ Instead, she said carefully, "I am... committed to helping Jasmine and Hermione fight for what's right, but I've never been afraid of what I might have to do. Not... not until I saw _her_."

"Afraid of becoming like her, are you?" Moody frowned. "Well, I won't lie to you: anyone can become dark and twisted, given the right push. Though I doubt Lestrange ever needed much of an excuse," he added with a scoff. "She hurt others because she _enjoyed_ it, not because it was a necessity. Doing unpleasant but necessary things won't turn you dark; enjoying them, looking forward to them, will."

Gabrielle's expression turned thoughtful as they entered the spinning circular room.

"That sister of yours — you look up to her, don't you?" he asked abruptly. When she nodded, he went on, "What would she think of what you did here, in this fight?"

Gabrielle didn't hesitate in her answer. "She'd be proud of how well I did against an older, more experienced opponent. She'd be happy zat such a dangerous enemy was eliminated."

Moody nodded in agreement. "I'd think the same thing if I had a younger sister like you. Focus on that, if you start doubting your actions. If, at the end of the day, you can look your sister in the eye without shame over what you've done, then you shouldn't have any trouble looking at yourself in the mirror in the morning."

Gabrielle's smile was genuine as she took the old auror's arm, which had him completely flustered as they entered the hallway to the lifts. They could see Sirius and the coven at the far end. "You're a wise man, Mr. Moody. I'd love to—" Suddenly she bent over double, hissing in pain.

"What is it, lass?" Moody asked, concerned now.

"Jasmine!" she gasped. "I must get to her!"

* * *

The pain in her skull slowly faded, allowing Minerva to open her eyes again. Blinking rapidly, she saw that there was light streaming out from the archway at the center of the room. Upon looking around, she noted that she was still the only one left aside from the stunned Death Eaters and unconscious Order members.

Suddenly, there was a figure in white standing in front of the arch, the tattered cloth billowing around them. _I could have sworn that there wasn't anyone there a moment ago_ , she thought sluggishly.

Slowly the figure in white walked up the stone steps to where she was sitting against the wall. As it drew close she thought she recognized the red-headed woman, even though she was certain she had to be wrong.

"B-bonnie?"

"Aye, Min, it's me. Were you expecting someone else?"

"But... how?" Minerva asked. "How can you be here? Aren't you...?"

"Aye, that I am."

"But if you're... then does that mean I'm...?"

"Aye," Bonnie said with a sigh. "I'm afraid so. We Gryffindors do have a habit of running into danger, don't we?"

"But how?" Minerva asked again, confused. "I was wearing my tunic. I feel fine!"

Bonnie crouched down so that she was at eye level with Minerva. "Aye, but you had a bit of a headache, I'll wager. You burst a blood vessel in your head when you hit that wall, and you've been bleeding into your brain ever since. I don't know more than that — I often had trouble understanding some of what went on in that head of yours," she added with a rueful grin.

Minerva was silent for a long moment as she processed this, then said, "I can't, Bonnie. What about the girls? They need me!"

"They'll manage," Bonnie assured her. "It will be hard for them at first, but they're strong. And they're stronger now because of you, by the way."

"I... I tried to give them some of the opportunities that my own foolishness denied the two of us."

Bonnie smiled encouragingly. "You did good, Min. You redeemed yourself by nurturing another soul bond."

"Another?" Minerva asked, her expression one of sadness but little surprise. "So it's true, then? You and I?"

"Aye. Our destiny was to take young Jasmine away from the manipulations of that old goat and raise her right. To prepare her for her own soul bond and the marvelous destiny ahead of her and Hermione."

"Oh, no!" Minerva gasped. "So it's all my fault that she—"

"Don't blame yourself," Bonnie interrupted, putting her hand on the other witch's shoulder. "You couldn't have known, and you made up for it anyway. It was a near thing, though — if you'd waited much longer to get off your duff, matters might have turned out quite differently." She smiled, taking the sting from her words, and her fingers moved from Minerva's shoulder to brush her cheek lightly. Minerva leaned into the caress, and Bonnie's face suffused with happiness, as if she'd been waiting a long time to do that.

"Now come on," she said brightly. "Up you get. It's time." She stood and reached down to help the other woman to her feet.

Finally free of the pain, Minerva took her hand and didn't look back at the slumped, still body as she walked together with her soulmate through the Veil.

* * *

 **Hogwarts. Friday, June 1, 1996, Night. 11:45 PM.**

Flitwick dove behind a statue, wondering if any of them would make it out of this alive, when suddenly he felt control of the Hogwarts wards slam into him. In an instant he realized that he was now truly in charge of the castle, which could only mean that both Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall were dead. He didn't take time to mourn, however; instead, he immediately raised his wand and cried, _"_ _ **Piertotum Locomotor!**_ _"_

 _Minerva always wanted to use that spell_ , Flitwick thought sadly as he watched the statue he had ducked behind shift side to side as it came to life. "Invaders in the castle!" he called out. "Protect the students! Do your duty!"

All of the statues and suits of armor charged on the Death Eaters in the Entrance Hall. Black-cloaked wizards and witches were stabbed, hacked, chewed, and clawed to death, turning the Entrance Hall into an abattoir. Those students who had the best accuracy pushed down their rising bile so they could support the castle's defenses by casting piercing hexes into the melee.

One Death Eater who stood head and shoulders above the rest suddenly lost his mask, and Flitwick heard a shout of "Lestrange!" A quick glance revealed that the voice belonged to Neville Longbottom, who had charged out from the classroom hallway, casting a flurry of violent spells at the older wizard. Flitwick wouldn't have expected the young man to be much of a match against the experienced and vicious Rodolphus Lestrange, but the castle's armor wasn't giving him much opportunity to focus on the new challenge.

A couple of reductor curses were deflected by his shield, but then Neville cast _"_ _ **Perforo,**_ _"_ piercing not only the shield but also the Death Eater's neck. As he reached up instinctively to stem the blood, several suits of armor took advantage of his distraction and finished off what Neville's curse had started.

A cry of _"_ _ **Confringo!**_ _"_ caused Neville to jump in surprise, and he whirled to find Rabastan Lestrange pointing his wand at him... and staring in disbelief at the smoking hole where the man's chest had been.

"C'mon!" Ginny shouted as she grabbed the young wizard by the arm and started dragging him back to safety. "You should know better than to run out into the middle of a fight like that."

Soon the armor and statues were pushing the remaining Death Eaters back up the stairs. This time having the high ground didn't give them much of an advantage because more armor and statues were coming from the upper floors, surrounding the invaders and rending them into tiny pieces. Flitwick didn't need to look at the map to know that the same scene was being repeated elsewhere in the castle.

He was about to recheck the protections on the front doors when he noticed that there was no longer any howling or banging outside them. Then he did check the map and saw that there was no one outside the front doors, though there was an unusually large number of centaurs moving off the edge of the map and into the forest.

* * *

 **Ministry of Magic. Friday, June 1, 1996, Night. 11:45 PM.**

"Remember the plan," Jasmine said to Hermione as the lift rose up through the Ministry of Magic. When the doors opened up on the atrium, Jasmine ran out, looking for Snape. He was easily visible running past the floos, but before she could do anything, several of the floos activated and a flood of Death Eaters came rushing out, followed by Voldemort himself.

With a wave of his wand, heavy metal grates came down in front of all the floos — though not before Snape could dive into one, disappearing in a flash of light and smoke. Not seeming to notice, Voldemort sent an almost negligent blasting curse at the lifts, destroying the last functioning car and sending it crashing back down to the ninth floor.

"There," he said imperiously. "Now we won't be disturbed."

Jasmine crouched and circled around the massive Magical Brethren statue and fountain in the middle of the atrium, trying to keep it between her and Voldemort.

"I see you are alone," Voldemort said with a chuckle, moving himself to put the statue behind him. "Again. You're always alone, aren't you? All your little friends keep dying... or have they finally gotten smart and abandoned you? It's of no importance, I suppose. They'll die sooner or later for having the temerity to ever follow you at all. But not before I take the time to break them and enjoy their screams — that I promise you."

Jasmine narrowed her eyes as she sent a quick blasting hex at a Death Eater who had made the mistake of standing still too long, exploding his torso in a shower of blood. This inspired the others to quickly move farther away, creating more space around her and Voldemort.

He simply laughed. "Ah, you've gotten more spirited than the last time we met, Potter. Good, good — that will make this, our last encounter, all the more enjoyable. For Us, at least. But first, you have something We desire." He held out one bony white hand and commanded, "Give Us the prophecy, girl."

"You mean this?" Jasmine asked as she reached into her robes and held out a prophecy sphere. She hefted it a few times in her hand before hurtling it towards Voldemort's right. As he lunged to catch it with his left hand, she cast _"_ _ **Confringo!**_ _"_ at his head, forcing him to duck and take the spell on the shoulder while the prophecy sphere sailed past him, shattering against the floor.

She gaped in shock when she saw that her spell did little more than burn away some of his robes and scorch his pale skin. "Did you think We wouldn't have ensured that Our new body was stronger and more durable than Our original?" he growled in fury.

She barely saw him move when he whipped up his wand and cast _"_ _ **Crucio!**_ _"_ Fortunately hers was already out, giving her just enough time to respond with _"_ _ **Confringo!**_ _"_

The two spells met, creating a ribbon of energy connecting the two wands. As had happened in the graveyard, additional threads of energy broke away from the main one, creating a golden cage around them as phoenix song echoed throughout the atrium. This time Jasmine let the cage form completely instead of forcing her wand to break away.

"Again?! What sort of magic is this?" Voldemort raged as he found himself trapped.

"That'll teach you to not do your homework," Jasmine taunted him. "With the cage fully formed this time, there's no getting in or out. Our wands have forced us into a battle of wills. None of your experience, knowledge, or power will do you any good now!"

Voldemort's red eyes brightened, and he grinned maniacally as he worked to push away the beads of light that had appeared along the ribbon of energy between their wands.

* * *

Sirius cursed up a storm as he looked at the ruined lift and tried to peer up the shaft. "Bloody spinning room! We lost so much time trying to get out of there, and now the lifts are destroyed! Merlin knows how we're going to get up there now!"

"Uh, Black?" he heard Moody say, and noticed some odd hissing in the background.

"What?" he asked, not paying attention as he glared at the mess before him.

"Back away from the lift. Now."

"What?" Sirius asked again as he turned back to the others. That was when he realized that Fleur and Gabrielle were transforming. Cruel beaks were extending from their faces, sharp talons were growing out from their fingers, and feathers were appearing all over their bodies.

Sirius took Moody's advice and hastily got out of the way, coming to stand next to the old auror and his goddaughter's coven. From this safer vantage point, he noticed that the gold wings on the back of the veela armor, which he'd assumed were mere decoration, had joined with the veelas' wings, making them shimmer in the torch light.

The transformation was now complete, and they were magnificent. They were radiant.

They were scary as hell.

In short order both veela were in the lift shaft, digging their talons into the magically hardened stone and climbing up to the atrium, hissing in fury the entire time.

"And **that's** why I never married," Moody muttered.

* * *

When Amelia Bones came running up to the phone booth that served as the muggle entrance to the Ministry of Magic, she was surprised to find Cornelius Fudge already there with several aurors. She silently cursed the disruptions to the floo network which had cost her so much time in collecting the appropriate aurors (some of whom had to be sent to Hogwarts), then getting to the Ministry.

"Minister, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I'm here to arrest Jasmine Potter for breaking and entering into the Hall of Prophecy," he declared, though she noticed that he looked a bit nervous. "She's also obviously done something to the floo network, forcing me, the Minister, to use the visitor's entrance! Why are _you_ here, Amelia?"

She scowled at the aurors with Fudge, letting them know that she'd be having words with them later about taking orders outside the chain of command. "I'm here to save Jasmine Potter from Voldemort and an unknown number of Death Eaters," she declared. The aurors who'd accompanied her had known in advance what they'd be facing and had, in fact, been training for it. The aurors who'd accompanied Fudge had clearly expected an easy task in taking down an underaged witch, judging by how scared they looked now.

"Impossible!" Fudge retorted. "I can't believe you've bought into those lies! I'll tell you right now, Amelia, if I find out that you're conspiring against me and the Ministry, I'll not only fire you, but have you brought up on charges!"

Bones eyed the phone booth, trying to judge how many of them could fit, when she felt a charmed galleon burning in her pocket. It had been given to her by Sirius Black to alert her if and when his goddaughter was attacked by Voldemort. _Potter's signal!_ she thought. _There's no more time — she's facing Voldemort now!_

"I'm going down there with Shacklebolt because I trust his combat training," she announced, her tone brooking no more argument. "If you're so bloody confident about what we'll find, you're more than welcome to join us. The rest can follow afterwards."

Fudge seemed to falter for a moment, but then he stiffened his spine and nodded once before entering the phone booth first, forcing the other two to squeeze in after him. He picked up the handset, dialed the number, and they all heard the well-known voice say, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and the nature of your visit."

"Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic," he replied, "and I'm here to stop Jasmine Potter."

"Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt," she added, "and we're here to stop Voldemort."

Three badges dropped out of the coin return slot, each with their names and the same message: "Fool's Errand."

Slowly the lift began to move, and as it descended the three occupants became witnesses to a vision out of hell. Fires burned everywhere as two bird-like creatures in radiant armor and carrying spears were flying overhead, flinging fireballs at three Death Eaters who kept casting poorly-aimed spells back at their attackers. All around on the floor were over a dozen more Death Eaters, their bodies broken and burning. On one wall the giant banner of Fudge's face — which he had intended to be reassuring but which Bones felt was simply creepy — had been clawed to shreds and was burning as well.

As Bones watched, she saw one of the creatures suddenly dive and hurl its spear, skewering one of the Death Eaters who had taken refuge behind a stone pillar. His cry was choked off when the spear wrenched itself free, leaving him to crumple to the ground. With a scream of triumph, the creature plucked its returning spear out of the air and began circling again.

In the middle of it all were Jasmine Potter and Voldemort, apparently locked together by a stream of energy connecting their wands and surrounded by a golden cage.

Fudge seemed unable to do anything but babble incoherently as he took in the horrific scene. "Protect the Minister," she ordered Shacklebolt as she ducked down and entered the fray.

It wasn't long before she had dispatched the remaining Death Eaters. Already wounded and distracted by the creatures in the air, they never even knew that a new threat had arrived. She tensed when the two bird-like creatures landed near her, not sure if the clearly dangerous beings were a threat to her, but in short order they started transforming into strikingly beautiful young women. "Veela?" she asked.

Both nodded, the older one introducing herself as Fleur Delacour, the current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. "My sister Gabrielle and I came here with several other witches to support Jasmine." Bones experienced a moment of panic at the thought that Susan might have been in that group, but calmed when she remembered that her niece was much too sensible to do anything as insane as that.

The younger veela had already rushed over to the golden cage and was looking on anxiously; the other two witches now hurried after her. As they approached, Bones raised her wand, her mind racing through her options.

"Don't," Fleur said, catching her wrist before she could cast. "It is of no use. Zey are cut off."

Inside the cage, Bones could now see that there were several beads of energy moving along the thread that connected the wands — and all of them were gradually moving towards Potter. Jasmine flicked her gaze towards the three watchers and clearly knew they were there, though even that brief moment of inattention cost her as the beads surged closer.

"You're just a little girl, and no match for me!" Voldemort was shouting. "A no-account, talentless, helpless little witch who will soon learn her place!"

"Not... helpless..." Jasmine gritted out, struggling to maintain control of her wand with both hands as it shook violently. "I'm not... the one who's... alone..."

The air next to Jasmine shimmered and Hermione Granger appeared, pulling off an invisibility cloak. "Never!" she said as she put her free hand over Jasmine's on the wand. Both girls' eyes flashed with a brilliant white light, and a moment later all the beads of energy abruptly changed direction. They rocketed towards a shocked Voldemort and into his wand, causing a massive explosion. Once Bones could see again, she saw that the cage had fallen and Voldemort was staggering backwards, looking down where his wand arm had been blown completely off. Jasmine was still in one piece, but she, too, had staggered backwards and nearly collapsed from the exertion of the lengthy battle she had just fought.

Hermione, however, was standing tall as she gathered herself and raised her wand, her eyes still glowing a fierce white. _"_ _ **CORACE CORRUO!**_ _"_ she cried in a ringing voice, and the sound reverberated in the air around them.

An immense battering ram of raw power slammed into Voldemort and hurled him against the Magical Brethren with a sound like a massive gong. Both wizard and statue kept moving under the force of the spell as the fountain exploded under them and they smashed into the far wall. The statue was embedded deep in the wall, while Voldemort's ruined body fell to the ground in a heap, crushed almost beyond recognition.

Now Hermione, too, was bent double and breathing hard. The head of the DMLE watched as the girl looked to her friend and panted, "One prophecy down... one to go." Jasmine just nodded wearily.

Bones didn't quite know what that meant, but she wasn't surprised to see that such a powerful spell had taken a lot out of the young witch. What did surprise her was the sight of Jasmine's and Hermione's skin bubbling as their features melted. A moment later they had switched places, revealing that it had been Jasmine who cast the final spell while Hermione had been locked in the battle with Voldemort.

"Polyjuice?" Bones asked, wondering what the hell was going on.

"A necessary deception," Fleur said apologetically, "to make it easier for Jasmine to strike ze killing blow. We knew Voldemort would focus on Hermione polyjuiced as Jasmine, allowing ze real Jasmine to be at full strength to cast ze siege engine spell. Zere was zis prophecy, you see, zat only Jasmine would be able to vanquish him."

With the girls leaning on the veela for support, all five made their way slowly across the atrium to the pile of rubble that had been the Magical Brethren.

"So could somebody please enlighten me as to what just happened?" Amelia asked, at something of a loss and not liking the feeling one bit. "What was that cage thing you were in?"

" _Priori Incantatem_ ," Hermione explained. "Ollivander told us about it. Jasmine's wand and Voldemort's had the same magical core, and if set against one another, they would force the users to engage in a battle of wills."

"But if you were in there with them," Bones said to Jasmine, "why did you wait so long to cast the siege engine spell?"

"We knew the cage would cut off the wand holders from outside interference, but we didn't know what would happen if a third person tried to cast something inside. It wasn't meant for that, and it could have been... rather messy," Jasmine finished with a grimace. "So we needed the cage to fall first. We also needed to give our friends time to take out the remaining Death Eaters since we'd both be vulnerable by the time we were done."

"Right," Hermione went on. "Based on what Ollivander said, we figured we'd delay Voldemort as long as we could, trigger the representation of the last spells he had cast as a distraction — that's something else _Priori Incantatem_ does, by the way — then break the cage and cast the siege engine. We weren't expecting that explosion, though — the cage must have fallen by itself when his wand blew up." She looked at Jasmine. "I guess we, uh, put a little too much power into it," she added sheepishly.

"Oh, that reminds me," Jasmine said, "can I have my wand back, Hermione?" The two witches made the exchange while Bones gaped, wondering how in Merlin's name they had done all _that_ with the wrong wands. But before she could ask, they reached the spot where Voldemort lay. Incredibly, his eyes were open — or at least the one that was still intact was — and he glared balefully up at the five witches arrayed around him.

"You can't kill Us," he rasped. His body was impossibly flattened, and it was inconceivable to Bones how it could still produce speech. "We have plumbed the depths of dark magic... to a far greater degree than... anyone before." He paused to wheeze, then continued with obvious effort, "We are... immortal! This construct... We use for a body... has failed... but soon... We will return... and you will all know... Our... wrath. We... shall—"

 _"Lacero!"_ Bones growled, severing the head from the rest of the body. A dark, smoky form rose up from the remains, but it quickly dissipated into nothing. "Not on my watch, you won't."

The others gasped. "But ze prophecy..." Fleur protested.

"Oh, you vanquished him alright," Bones said, gesturing to encompass the wreckage all around them and the mess on the floor. "I simply shut him up. Though I'm not sure why someone like Albus couldn't have done all this just as easily."

The two girls exchanged a look she couldn't quite decipher.

A thought struck her then. "That stuff about him coming back... again... that was all just his usual villainous bluster, right? There's no chance of him actually doing it?"

"No, he's gone," Jasmine said firmly. "He did have a way of coming back, but we were working on it with Professor Dumbledore..." A shadow crossed her face for a moment, but then she seemed to shake it off. "Anyway, it's all taken care of now. That was part of the whole 'vanquishing' thing, too."

Just then Fudge bumbled over, accompanied by Shacklebolt and the other aurors who had been left outside. "I can't believe it," he said, "I just can't believe it. You-Know-Who really was back, and he was here... here in the Ministry! I have to call the press. I have to get a photographer. I have to—"

"Shack, place the Minister under arrest," Bones ordered tiredly.

"What?!" Fudge cried out in shock.

"You've been denying the return of... this," she responded, using her toe to nudge the shattered body at her feet, "for a year now, all the while attempting to defame and punish the young witch who just killed our greatest enemy. For the second time, might I add. If you weren't in league with him, then you were criminally negligent." She gestured sharply with her head, and Shacklebolt grabbed the sputtering minister, hauling him away. _I don't know if I can make those charges stick_ , she thought, _but at least he's out from underfoot before he can turn this into a media circus. I'm sure I'll be able to find_ _ **something**_ _on him._

With a wave of her wand she opened the floos and began ordering aurors to call in emergency teams to put out the fires around the atrium and tend to the injured.

"And you four," she finally said as she turned to the young witches. "I know it's late, but I think we need to have a talk in my office."

"If you don't mind, we'd like to check on Professor McGonagall first," Hermione said. "She was hurt down in the Department of Mysteries, though Sirius told me he'd look after her."

"I'll send someone to take care of her right away," Bones assured them.

"Maybe we should wait for the others to get up here, too," Jasmine suggested.

Bones raised one worried eyebrow. "Others? Who else is here?"


	51. Never Say Goodbye

**A/N:** This is it, the last regular chapter — all that's left is a short epilogue. Wow, what a ride this has been! _Yule Ball Panic_ started as an experiment in April, 2015, and now here we are at the end, 19 months, 114 chapters, and over 700,000 words later. Thanks to everyone who has been reading it all, I appreciate all your reviews and favorites.

As always, a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. This is a long chapter, so Bonnie spent a tremendous amount of time this past week editing!

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "The Last Casualties" by muggledad. Lily and James Potter didn't die in 1981. Voldemort put them in a magical stasis so that they could return and see a future where he was victorious. That obviously didn't work out so well, though, and they instead returned to a ruined house and no idea what had happened. They go to Hogwarts seeking answers and arrive just in time to hear their son being chosen as a champion by the Goblet of Fire. This is a great H/Hr story, though it isn't finished and hasn't been updated in a while.

For those who are observant, there's a reference here to Driftwood1965's "Harry Potter and Future's Past." Consider it an easter egg. :)

There's also a reference to a legend about Callanish in which a cuckoo heralds the arrival on midsummer morning of a being, spirit, or deity known as the "Shining One."

 **Final Countdown: 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...0!**

* * *

 **Chapter 51 - Never Say Goodbye**

 **Friday, June 2, 1996, Early Morning.**

Jasmine and Hermione had been fully prepared to answer whatever questions Amelia Bones had — or most of them, at any rate — until an auror came into her office to inform her about the casualties, including Minerva McGonagall. This so devastated the two young witches that Sirius insisted that they be allowed to return to the school, which according to another auror was now secure after a desperate and bloody battle had taken place there as well.

Fleur and Gabrielle, of course, weren't going to let the other two depart without them, which left the rest of the coven sitting like rabbits before a wolf as the head of the DMLE turned her attention towards them and started demanding answers. As Sirius closed the door to her office, it sounded as though Susan was taking the lead in responding on behalf of Jasmine's friends. He silently wished her luck.

"What's going on up there?" Sirius asked once the portkey had deposited them outside the Hogwarts gates.

"I'm not sure," Tonks answered. Given all that had happened, Bones wasn't about to let the others travel without at least one auror to escort them, and Tonks had been chosen given her familial connections. "I thought that all the fighting had taken place inside the castle, so I don't know what the investigating aurors would need to look at around the front doors." She and Sirius approached cautiously, unwilling to completely trust the situation.

"Morning, Tonks," said one of the red-robed aurors once they got close to the castle's front doors.

"Wotcher, Proudfoot," she said in return, though her voice lacked much of its customary cheer. "Did something happen out here?"

"Apparently werewolves trapped the students in the castle while the Death Eaters attacked from within," Proudfoot replied. "But by the end of the fight inside, all the werewolves were gone. All that was left was some blood, bits of fur, and a few arrows embedded in the door."

Sirius looked at the hollow-eyed expressions on Jasmine and Hermione and decided that they had seen more than enough death for one night. "Why don't you two go on inside — we'll be along in a minute," he said, his voice as gentle as he could make it.

Nodding mechanically, the girls allowed themselves to be guided into the castle by their veela protectors. Fleur gave Sirius a grateful look as she passed him.

Tonks, meanwhile, had been looking closely at one of the arrows that her fellow auror had gestured to, and to everyone's surprise, she recognized it. "Centaur," she announced.

"How would you know that?" Sirius asked. "Every centaur makes his own arrows, and they all do it differently."

"Yeah, well, I met the one who made that arrow," she explained. "About seven feet at the shoulder, white speckles on the side. Never caught his name."

"One night stand, eh?" Sirius asked before he could stop himself, causing the two investigating aurors to snort with suppressed laughter.

"Oi!" Tonks complained, tossing a stinging hex in his direction. "I was undercover!"

"Yeah, I'll bet you were," Sirius said with a bit of a smirk. Even with all that had happened, some openings were too good to pass up. The moment passed quickly, though, and he began to feel that he should really be with the girls. "Do you gentlemen need anything else from us?"

"Actually, I have a few questions for Auror Tonks here, if you don't mind," Proudfoot said, so Tonks gestured him to go on alone.

Inside he found that the entrance hall was a complete wreck. There were pieces of stone, statues, and armor everywhere. The walls were scorched and pockmarked from stray spells, and given how extensive the bloodstains were, the number of bodies that must have already been cleaned up had to have been substantial.

Up ahead he saw Jasmine and Hermione approaching Flitwick, who was directing the cleanup, and he hurried to catch up.

"P-professor?" Hermione said, her voice so quiet that Sirius could barely hear it. "At the Ministry... the Head—"

Flitwick held up a hand to stop her. "I already know, my dear. I received control of the wards during the battle, which told me that everyone with greater seniority had perished. Can you... can you tell me how it happened?"

"Professor Dumbledore was blasted through a stone arch during a fight... the Veil of Death," Jasmine said, speaking a bit louder for the sake of the crowd gathering around them. Their curiosity about what had happened at the Ministry was obvious, though the intimidating sight of Fleur and Gabrielle in their golden armor kept them from getting too close.

"It was Snape," Hermione added, bitterness creeping into her tone. "He was there dressed as a Death Eater and murdered the Headmaster."

"He was absent all day yesterday," Flitwick said with a frown as the crowd of students and teachers began to murmur. "During a sweep of the castle this morning, it was discovered that his quarters had been hastily emptied at some point."

"He fled the Ministry before we fought Voldemort," Jasmine said.

As the crowd buzzed with this news, Fleur informed the girls quietly, "I have zent a message to Maman. Ze aurors will be looking for him here, but others will be watching to see if he travels to ze continent. He will not get far."

"You fought You-Know-Who again?" Ginny asked as she, Luna, Neville, and Ron worked their way to the front of the gathering.

"We've been working for the past several months on plans to confront him in a way that would give Jasmine the advantage," Sirius explained.

"We didn't expect it to happen last night, but with Professor Lupin's life at stake, we knew we couldn't wait any longer," Jasmine went on. "So yes, I fought him. He's dead. For good, this time."

A loud cheer erupted from the crowd, but a few noticed that Jasmine and Hermione weren't sharing in the jubilation. "What else happened?" Luna asked softly.

"Professor McGonagall... She... she didn't make it," Hermione said, ending on a sob.

"We're not sure what exactly happened to her," Jasmine said to Professor Flitwick. "She was thrown against a wall by a spell from Bellatrix. Sirius talked to her and she said she was fine, but..."

Flitwick looked to Sirius, and once again he felt a wave of guilt threaten to overwhelm him. "I should have stayed with her — maybe I could have done something," he said miserably. "I only left because she assured me she was fine. She said she'd simply had the wind knocked out of her."

"Sometimes the most serious injuries can't be seen," Flitwick said, his eyes filled with sorrow. "It's not your fault. You should know that her sacrifice was not in vain — it was only my getting control of the wards that enabled us to survive here."

"What about the others?" Neville asked. "And did you find Professor Lupin?"

"No one else was injured too badly," Sirius answered, noticing that Jasmine and Hermione were starting to withdraw in on themselves again. "Just some minor stuff. There was no sign of Remus, unfortunately. Madam Bones said she'd have aurors look for him as they investigate the remaining Death Eaters. That's all we know right now."

When it became apparent that no more information was forthcoming, the crowd reluctantly began to disperse. Sirius then turned to Flitwick. "I intend to start searching for him myself once I leave here," he said quietly, "but first, I'm going to see these two to bed." Flitwick nodded and returned to organizing the cleanup, leaving Sirius free to escort the girls to Gryffindor Tower.

As it turned out, however, they were the ones who escorted him to the Room of Requirement because they desperately needed privacy right now. Sirius was suitably impressed when Hermione created a room with a large bed and multiple showers, and he greatly lamented the fact that he and James had never found this room when they were students.

Then Winky and Dobby arrived, and for once it was a tearful reunion on both sides as they threw themselves into their mistresses' arms.

"I guess you'll be alright here," Sirius finally said as he opened the door and started backing out. "I'm not sure where I'll start looking for Remus, but—" A loud pop from behind caused Sirius to spin around with his wand drawn, but he immediately lowered it in surprise. "Kreacher?"

"Oh, Kreacher doesn't feel good, no he doesn't." The old elf gripped his head in his hands and swayed a bit, then staggered back against the far wall where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy hung.

"Kreacher, what's wrong?" Jasmine asked as she exited the room.

"Are you alright?" Hermione said worriedly, kneeling down next to the elf.

Dobby peered out around the doorframe and nodded knowingly. "It be a long trip from London," he said by way of explanation. "Dobby is always being very tired when he goes."

Kreacher looked up at the concerned faces around him, even his master's, and for just a moment his customary venomous glower softened to a mere sulk. Then he pulled himself together and addressed Sirius.

"Mistress Walburga sent Kreacher with a message," he said. "She told Kreacher that Master Cygnus came with news from Malfoy Manor."

Sirius' eyes widened. "He was able to say the name? The Fidelius charm on the place must be down. What did my uncle have to say?"

"Master Cygnus says that Master Sirius' werewolf is being held there."

"Remus!" the girls exclaimed.

"Who is Cygnus?" Fleur asked.

"My uncle," Sirius explained quickly. "Narcissa's father. In exchange for giving her sanctuary on Black property, she agreed to put a portrait of her father in a strategic location in Voldemort's hideout. That's how we've been getting information about him, though the Fidelius charm meant that Cygnus wasn't able to explain where exactly he was. For it to be down now, something about the secret itself must no longer be true."

"We'll go with you..." Jasmine started to say as she jumped up, but Sirius put a hand on her shoulder.

"No, you all have done more than enough. You need to rest. I'll go to the Ministry first to get a team of aurors from Amelia, and hopefully a healer, too. She might even come herself, since I'm sure there will be a lot at Malfoy Manor that she'll want to go over." _And maybe I can take some of the heat off poor Susan,_ he added silently.

"Come on, let's get cleaned up and get some sleep," Hermione said, pulling Jasmine by one arm while Gabrielle grabbed the other.

"But... but..."

"Don't worry, I'll send word as soon as he's safe!" Sirius called back, already turning the far corner and heading for the stairs.

Much later, the rest of the coven arrived with news that Remus was in critical condition in St. Mungo's, but that he was expected to pull through. In the Room of Requirement, the showers automatically multiplied and the bed enlarged itself to accommodate everyone, including Ginny and Luna, who had also joined them. For the rest of the day and the following night, all eleven witches held each other, cried, and offered what comfort they could. It would take a while for them to grieve, but it was a start.

* * *

 **Friday, June 2, 1996, Night.**

A thin man with a hooked nose and sallow skin stood near the bow of the ferry, staring off into the darkness towards France and resolutely refusing to turn back to take a last look at England. His left hand twitched as he resisted the urge to run his fingers through his once-greasy hair, now shorn into a crew cut, and he grimaced as the salt in the air caused the long, barely-healed slash that cut across his face to burn. He considered taking another pain potion, but decided against it. He was near the recommended limit already.

At his feet was his travelling bag, expanded inside to the maximum amount possible to hold his possessions, potions supplies, false identity papers, and even gold. He'd never kept more than the bare minimum in Gringotts, preferring instead to keep it handy because he always knew that the day might come when he'd have to run. And that day was now here.

The reminder brought a pang of regret and the image of an old man's face as he fell through the Veil. That particular disaster certainly hadn't been his intent, but the old fool shouldn't have interfered. He shook his head, ruthlessly shoving that thought down into the pit where he kept all his other regrets and bad memories.

Someone stepped up to the railing next to him, and his right hand gripped the wand in his pocket more tightly.

"I've always preferred the sea at night over the day," came a lilting female voice with just the hint of a French accent. "That's why I always take the latest ferry when travelling. Well, that and the fact that it's never as crowded. I _do_ so hate the crowds, don't you?"

Snape almost involuntarily nodded in agreement. He hadn't wanted to engage anyone, but he had never liked crowds either. That was one reason why he was making this trip at night, though he knew that with so few people around, he would be easier to remember once the Ministry or Potter came looking for him.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the woman look down at his feet briefly before she said, "You don't appear to have enough luggage for a vacation. Business trip, then?"

"Of a sort," he answered reluctantly. He'd be starting a potions business. Eventually. Once he'd run far enough that he felt safe stopping and settling down.

"Most business travellers travel during the day," the woman observed. When Snape remained silent, she went on, "There is one aspect of night travel that I don't like so much..." He felt her move a bit closer. "As much as I don't like crowds, I don't necessarily like to be alone, either. And it does get so lonely travelling at night."

Snape turned to face her then, and in the light of the nearly full moon he saw that she was a very, very beautiful blond. He was surprised to note how tall she was, too. He arched one eyebrow — the one without the slice running through it — and replied, "I've never found that to be a problem."

"Really?" she asked, cocking her head a little as she smiled ever so slightly.

"Well... I honestly haven't ever travelled that much," he said, starting to feel oddly warm.

"I'm very experienced myself," she said. "Perhaps I can educate you? We have a couple of hours until we arrive."

"I... suppose I could be persuaded," he replied, surprising himself with his words and having trouble thinking of anything but the blonde in front of him. Perhaps the pain potions were affecting him more than he realized?

"My name is Phoebe," she said as she stepped away from the railing. "And you are?"

"Alexander," he barely remembered to say as he followed her inside.

In the darkness, he couldn't see her fingers slowly transforming into talons.

* * *

 **Saturday, June 3, 1996, Late Morning.**

"Thank you for keeping an auror detail here, Madam Bones," Flitwick said as he led her to a small table in the headmaster's office. "With so many of our staff gone now, it would be difficult to maintain security and order in the castle, especially with OWLs and NEWTs about to start."

"Not a problem, Headmaster," she replied, "and please, call me Amelia. I have a feeling we'll be working closely for a while."

"And do call me Filius," the diminutive professor said as he poured tea for the two of them. "I'm not comfortable with that title."

"You'll have to get comfortable with it," Bones said. "I have it on good authority that the Board of Governors — those that are left, at any rate — will vote to make your temporary position a permanent one. Even the most conservative of them will be hard-pressed to oppose someone who led the victorious defense of the school."

"Oh dear," Flitwick responded, sagging a bit in his chair. "I never aspired to become the headmaster here at Hogwarts — I only ever wanted to teach charms. And I certainly never wanted to become headmaster under these circumstances."

"Well, I can at least tell you that your worst security problem has been identified," Bones said as she sipped her tea. "All day yesterday and all last night we raided the homes and businesses of every known Death Eater. We'll do more today based on what we learn about the identities of those killed here and at the Ministry. In some of the first homes we raided we found three of your wayward students: Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe."

"How long had they been out of the school?" Flitwick asked.

"Not long, actually," Bones answered. "Because of what happened, we had no trouble getting a judge to override their mothers' objections and used veritaserum on them. Nott was responsible for getting the Death Eaters into the school via a vanishing cabinet which he had spent most of the past year repairing."

"Oh, my," Flitwick said, starting to rise. "I really must—"

"No need," Bones said, holding up a hand to calm the agitated professor. "We have the matching cabinet already. Took it in a raid of Borgin and Burkes, which I don't think will be reopening. We'll want your cabinet eventually, but there's no rush."

"That's good to hear," Flitwick said in relief. "What about the other two boys?"

"They weren't aware of the plan until just before it happened, but they didn't object," Bones said. "The only reason none of them joined the attack is because Nott was ordered to stay behind and guard the cabinet. Someone was supposed to get them once they were victorious. When they eventually got tired of waiting and discovered just how badly the Death Eaters had been beaten, he and the other two snuck out through the cabinet and ran home."

"Well, none of them will be welcome back in the school, regardless of what happens to them at their trials," Flitwick said severely, all traces of his usual good humor gone.

After a long moment, Bones ventured, "Not to be indelicate, but will you be able to find people to fill all three of the open positions?"

"Four, actually," he corrected her. "Early this morning Poppy had to transfer Septima Vector to St. Mungo's, where she's joined over fifty of our most seriously injured students. According to Poppy, It's unlikely that Septima will ever recover enough to return."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Bones said. "All four, then?"

"I'm not sure, but I hope so," Flitwick said. His expression brightened briefly. "On the plus side, for the first time in decades, we'll be retaining our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for another year, so that's one less thing I have to worry about." Then he sighed. "But honestly, I haven't even begun to think about writing advertisements or sending out letters of inquiry. There's just been so much to do..."

"If there is anything the Ministry can do to help, whether it's finding professors or getting the castle working again, just let me know," she said.

"I trust you'll understand if I'm a little reluctant to invite even more of the Ministry into Hogwarts?" His tone was perfectly polite, but his eyes were wary.

"Oh, of course," Bones assured him. "But things will be different going forward. Umbridge won't be returning, even if we can find her again."

"Really?" Flitwick asked, genuinely surprised. "I'd have expected Fudge to try to get her back in here, one way or another, right after punishing Miss Potter for what she did to the woman."

"Potter isn't in any trouble as far as I'm concerned," she said. "Even though no one will explain exactly what books Umbridge was so worked up about, everyone I've talked to who does seem to know something insists that they have nothing to do with dark magic."

"No, they don't," he agreed. "And no, I won't say either. It's something that the young witches here seem to have appreciated a great deal. I'll leave it to them to explain it, if they wish."

"Clearly Susan and I have much more to talk about than I realized," Bones said under her breath. When he just waited patiently for her to continue, she went on, "As for Fudge... well, he'll be out if I have anything to say about it."

"Finally found something you can use against him?" Flitwick asked eagerly.

"Not yet," she sighed. "We can hold him for a week without pressing charges. It used to be just twenty-four hours, but he had the time extended — probably part of a plan to go after Miss Potter, so I'm happy to use it against him now. I'm sure we'll find enough in that time to either put him in Azkaban or at least force him to resign."

"That's nice to hear," Flitwick said as he sipped his tea, "but somehow I doubt you took time out of your incredibly busy schedule to tell me that."

"Quite right," Bones said, setting aside her own cup. "I'm not sure how to ask this, but... well, do you know anything about magical rituals creating large bursts of magic?"

Flitwick paused briefly in mid-sip. "Is this an academic question? Because rituals aren't a subject I've ever researched."

"No," Bones said with a shake of her head. "Such rituals have been performed all over Britain in recent months, releasing enough magic to create significant changes in the surrounding ecosystems. The most recent one produced a massive wave that damaged all the magical detectors in the Ministry, opening a huge breach in our security. Albus and Minerva not only knew about the rituals, but knew who was involved. In fact, Minerva herself was involved somehow. Albus promised that he'd encourage those behind it to come talk to me once the Ministry was more trustworthy."

Flitwick nodded in sympathy. "And now that is upon us, but neither Albus nor Minerva is here to help you. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can tell you about the issue."

"She was our only direct connection, too," Bones said in consternation. "Minerva raised the idea of having an auror at least observe the next ritual as a way of providing assurances that nothing illegal is going on, while taking an oath not to reveal the identity of the participants unless charges become necessary. Auror Tonks is thrilled by the idea, but without any way of getting in contact with them..."

"Maybe I can still help," Flitwick offered. "I have yet to go through all of Albus' and Minerva's things here in the castle in preparation for executing their wills. If I find anything that might allow you to contact those involved, I'll pass along a message."

Bones smiled for the first time since she'd arrived. "That would be helpful — thank you. I had been willing to leave them alone, at least for a while, but once the damage in the Ministry occurred, I had to start taking steps. It was only Minerva's assurances that the circumstances of that ritual wouldn't likely be possible for at least another year that caused me to not take her into custody and pressure her for more names. Even so, the Department of Mysteries is aware of the disruptive waves, too, and I can't do anything directly about their investigation."

"Well, that's just another reason for me to get to that unpleasant task sooner," Flitwick said. "More tea?"

* * *

 **Sunday, June 5, 1996, Evening.**

"...And that was when she brought up the possibility of having an auror present to observe the rituals." Flitwick concluded. "Apparently it was Professor McGonagall's idea."

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other as they sat in front of the headmaster's desk.

"So..." Hermione said slowly, "you're saying we would be able to stay anonymous so long as we don't do anything illegal, but Madam Bones would have someone there to keep an eye on things."

Flitwick nodded. "I think that was Minerva's intent when she came up with that compromise, and I'm told that Auror Tonks has agreed to it. Now that Minerva is no longer with us, though, Madam Bones didn't think she had any way to put the compromise into effect."

"Tonks is the auror?" Jasmine asked, surprised. "Well, that certainly makes things easier. I think we can go along with it, but we'll have to talk to the others first. Fleur can probably tell us if the veela will agree."

"And the goblins, too, don't forget," Hermione added. "This will mean the Ministry learning about their role in setting up wards and providing guards. They might not approve."

"Very good observation, Miss Granger," Flitwick said with a slight smile. "It wouldn't be a good idea to surprise them with something like that, even if they do end up agreeing to it."

"Is that everything, Prof... I mean, Headmaster?" Hermione asked. "We need to get back to study—"

"No, I'm afraid not," Flitwick interrupted. "Shortly before last summer ended, I served as a witness when Minerva changed her will. Except for a few items that are being given to the school and a couple of mementos for friends, the two of you are to receive all of her personal possessions." He paused as both witches gasped in surprise, then reached out to take each other's hands.

"She considered the two of you family," he continued. "This is something I would have waited until after your OWLs to bring up, but I made going through Minerva's quarters a priority — I needed to find a way to contact the mysterious people behind the rituals, you see — and I found something with your names on it. Since she thought it important enough to label it in such a manner, even though you would have gotten it with everything else eventually, I decided I shouldn't hold it back."

He took a small package which had been sitting on the corner of his desk and pushed it across. Hermione immediately reached for it, opening it carefully.

"Is this what I think it is...?" she asked in wonder as she pulled out a vial with a silvery substance in it.

"Oh, my!" Flitwick exclaimed. "That's a memory!"

"There are a few others as well," Jasmine said, looking into the box.

"This one is labeled 'first,'" Hermione noted, pulling out another vial.

"She's left you memories of some sort," Flitwick said. "How wonderful! All you need is a pensieve."

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore shared a number of memories about Voldemort over the last term," Hermione said.

"Excellent! So you know what to do," Flitwick replied. "Unfortunately, pensieves are rather rare. I suppose Minerva thought you'd use Albus', but I haven't come across it yet..."

He was interrupted by a blinding flash of light above the desk. When they could all see again, they realized that Fawkes was circling the room, a large package clasped in his talons. With a soft trill, he gently set the package on the desk, then landed next to it.

"Hm," Flitwick said as he stood on his chair and leaned over the box, "I wonder... May I, Fawkes?" he asked politely. At the phoenix's affirmation, he proceeded to open it. "Yes, just as I thought! It's Albus' pensieve! And more — come see!"

Both witches got up and leaned over the box as well. "More memories!" Jasmine exclaimed.

"And books!" Hermione added. " _Lots_ of books!"

"That explains some things," Flitwick said as he pulled out a piece of parchment. "Albus had quite a collection of old and rare books, but as I've been going through the things in his office and quarters, I haven't found nearly as many as I had expected."

He scanned the parchment briefly before continuing. "You'll want to read this for yourselves, but the short version is that everything in here is for the two of you. He left instructions for a house elf and Fawkes to collect them all if anything should happen to him rather than simply gifting them to you via his will. There are a lot of rare things here, and he didn't trust the Ministry not to interfere. In addition to the pensieve, memories, and books, there are a few magical objects of his own creation as well as his notes and journals from the past several decades."

"Wow," Hermione said. "That's probably even more priceless than the books and pensieve."

"Yes, I expect so," Flitwick responded, handing over the letter.

As much as they wanted to begin examining the memories immediately, they still had too much studying to do for their exams the following day, so they agreed to put off viewing the two vials marked "First" until Monday evening. The rest could wait.

His task accomplished, Fawkes trilled a final song that was somehow melancholy and hopeful and content all at once. Then he launched himself into the air and disappeared in a burst of fire.

* * *

 **Monday, June 6, 1996, Evening.**

They decided to view Dumbledore's first, figuring it that it would probably be the easier of the two. They were once more in the Room of Requirement, and because she and Jasmine had already practiced that afternoon with their own memories, Hermione now confidently removed the stored memory and placed it in the pensieve. Within moments, they were both looking at Dumbledore, sitting on a comfortably worn couch in a room they didn't recognize.

"Hello," he said to them. "It feels a bit odd to say that, since from my perspective I'm sitting alone in a place far from Hogwarts; but I know that you two will eventually see this, so from your perspective it will be as if I'm talking directly to you." Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other, then shuffled sideways so the Headmaster was looking at them instead of staring off into an empty corner of the room.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I chose to communicate with you in this fashion rather than simply write a letter," Dumbledore continued. "Well, for this particular memory I suppose I could have, but once I made the others it seemed a bit odd to revert to writing, so here we are. Aside from the brief explanatory note which I'm sure you've seen, all I wrote down was a list of what each of the other memories contain — you'll find it tucked in my last journal.

"As for the rest... One afternoon while I was reviewing my interactions with the two of you and lamenting some of the mistakes I'd made, I realized that there was one mistake which I could rectify, even after death. Indeed, it is because I suspect that I may not survive the coming conflict that I've done this."

At this point Dumbledore stood up and started to pace behind the couch. "The failure I am referring to is my failure to teach you, Miss Potter. It was something you pointed out to me rather forcefully at the end of the summer, in fact. So all of the vials contain memories of me explaining a variety of old and difficult spells. I show you wand movements, shortcuts, and even a few variations of my own design which no one else knows about."

"Cool," Jasmine whispered.

"I'll bet you find that very interesting," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I hope you find it all useful as well. Same with the many books I've left for you. It is the collection of my notes and journals which I hope will be even more useful, however." At this point he seemed to shrink a little, and the expression on his face turned regretful. "When I was young I was quite ambitious. Due to some... unfortunate events which I will not go into here, but which you will learn about soon enough, I scaled back my goals to just teaching. I wanted to help train and mold future generations in the hope that they would make better choices than I did."

Fawkes trilled brightly, and even in the memory, Jasmine and Hermione felt better. "Thank you, old friend," Dumbledore said to the phoenix. "Circumstances beyond my control forced me to take part in a war, and afterwards my victories propelled me into positions of political power and responsibility, none of which I was truly prepared for. It took me a long time to learn a lot of hard lessons — lessons which I have wanted to teach you, Miss Potter, because I have long hoped that you would become a great leader in the future. In my journals and notes you will read about all that, and if you pay close enough attention, you will be able to learn those lessons as well. Just without the pain and hardship I had to go through."

Fawkes trilled again, but this time mournfully, causing Dumbledore to sigh deeply. "Perhaps you are right," he responded, then slowly sat back down on the couch. "Politics is a dirty business. Even when everyone is perfectly honest, you are still forced to work with people whose goals and values differ greatly from your own, requiring all manner of compromises and half-truths just to get anything done. I've become so accustomed to them, though, that I no longer even notice myself using them. Here I am, trying to speak to you from beyond the grave, and yet I'm still relying on half-truths."

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other uncomfortably.

Dumbledore took off his half-moon spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "The truth... the _real_ truth, if I am to be perfectly honest, is that I'm not sure I _want_ to survive the coming war." He returned the eyeglasses to his face and looked at the two witches, almost as if he knew where they'd be standing.

"The truth is that the two of you frighten me — not because I'm particularly worried about you turning dark anymore, but because of the sort of future you intend to create. No matter how hard I have tried, I've been unable to identify anything truly wrong with what you want to do; but at the same time it is so alien from what I'm used to and have spent decades protecting that I'm not sure I'd be able to adapt to it. Perhaps it's cowardice on my part... or perhaps I'm remembering how ambitious I was at your age... but lately I've found myself hoping that I'd go out in a blaze of glory, allowing you to go on with your plans without an old man like me there to drag you down."

He looked down at his hands in his lap and was silent for a while. Finally he said, "I do wish you two the best, and I hope that you are able to make the improvements to our society that I've been unable to bring about. Just because I'm frightened of what you might achieve doesn't mean I don't want you to succeed, otherwise I wouldn't leave you so much that I think will help. Perhaps... perhaps you will become the leader we _need_ , even if you aren't the leader so many in our society will _want_."

Abruptly he slapped his thighs lightly and said in a much stronger voice, "Well, that won't do. I don't want to end my final message on such a depressing note. Fortunately, I know just the thing!" His eyes twinkled merrily as he continued, "Miss Potter, do you remember asking me recently to teach you a rather interesting spell?"

Jasmine's eyes widened and she nodded eagerly.

"I hope you just said yes," Dumbledore went on. "I already saved you a memory about it, plus some other related spells, but let's do that one now, shall we?" He stood up and raised his wand high. "The incantation is _Vortex Igneus_ and there is no particular wand movement — you need to move your wand in a circle over your head. The wider the circle, the larger the safe area around you will be."

Fawkes actually squawked then.

"Ah — good point, my old friend," he said, smiling a bit sheepishly. "Perhaps I shouldn't cast this particular spell in my host's living room. Shall we step outside?"

* * *

"Wow," Jasmine said as they exited the pensieve. "That was..."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "Do you... do you think he knew he was going to die when he saved Sirius?"

Jasmine considered that. "I don't think so. It's not like he used his own body to block the curse. It all happened so fast, but I'd say he looked surprised more than anything else."

"At first he did," Hermione agreed, "but then he seemed... I don't know, content, maybe?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was more willing to take chances," Jasmine said, "but I don't think he expected anything to come of it so quickly. I'd bet he expected to be killed by Voldemort, not by a Death Eater."

Hermione looked down at the vial containing McGonagall's memory and said, "I'm not sure I'm ready to watch anything else."

"Yeah," Jasmine agreed. "That was harder than I thought it would be. I'll need some time to think about it."

"We don't have any exams until Friday afternoon, so maybe watch hers on Thursday evening?" Hermione suggested.

Jasmine shook her head. "No, Friday is our Transfiguration practical," she said, causing Hermione to blanch slightly. "Let's save this for Friday evening." Hermione simply nodded, not trusting her voice.

* * *

 **Wednesday, June 7, 1996, Afternoon.**

"This really is for the best," she said.

"So you keep telling me," Fudge replied sourly as he began signing the parchment that he'd been handed, "but I have yet to see it, at least for me."

"You get to avoid Azkaban," Bones reminded him. "Even if we don't reinstate the dementors, it still a miserable place."

"I still can't believe you're doing this to me," he muttered, his quill almost stabbing the parchment as he went from sheet to sheet.

"You did it to yourself," Bones said, her voice suddenly cold. "If you had acted more responsibly when the reports of Voldemort returning first came out, no one would have looked any deeper into your business. No proof of your many indiscretions and crimes would have been discovered."

"Fine," Fudge snapped, shoving the stack of parchment back at her. "When can I get out of here?"

"First, all of these need to be officially filed," she said as she flipped through the parchment, making sure they were all signed properly. "Once that's done, someone will come here to take your testimony on everything you've done. If you can complete that tonight, a couple of aurors will escort you home tomorrow, let you pack, then take you to the border."

"And that's it? You won't trouble me any longer?" he demanded.

"As long as we don't turn up any evidence of you doing anything you don't admit to in your confession," Bones answered. "If you're truthful, then you'll never hear from the British DMLE again."

"Good," he said petulantly as he crossed his arms and watched her leave.

By the time she got to her office where Rufus Scrimgeour and Moira O'Connor were waiting, she was grinning from ear to ear.

"You got it?" O'Connor asked.

"YES!" Bones crowed, holding up the parchment triumphantly. "We're finally rid of him!"

"It's about time," Scrimgeour said with a sigh of relief.

"Did you get everything you wanted?" asked O'Connor.

"All of it," Bones confirmed. "He's resigned, he's given up all his vaults, and he'll go into exile. Rufus, when we're done here I'd like you to do the final interview. He has to confess to everything he's done before he can leave."

The head auror nodded as Bones sat down behind her desk. "Once we have that," he said, "we'll know which of his lackeys here at the Ministry are actually guilty of any crimes and which are just toadies." Once everyone had learned that the Minister was on his way out, the mood in the Ministry had turned decisively against those who were most in Fudge's favor. Like rats fleeing a sinking ship, no one wanted to be associated with the man or his policies. Unfortunately for some, like Percy Weasley, they had too much history of supporting Fudge to easily talk their way out of reprisals.

"So," Bones continued, "anything new on the dementors?"

"No," Scrimgeour answered. "No more have returned since Monday. I think the rest have probably gone rogue and will have to be hunted down."

"Alright, I'll let the Unspeakables know that they can start going after the dementors, then," Bones said. "If any of their ideas about how to destroy them work, then we'll have far fewer to deal with."

"And if that fails, we can sic Miss Potter on them," O'Connor said with a grin.

Ordinarily Bones would have given her a disapproving look, but her spirits were still so high at Fudge's impending departure — as were Moira's, obviously — that she decided to let it pass.

"Moving on," she said, clearing her throat, "I see that the centaurs haven't openly admitted to slaughtering the werewolves, but also didn't make any effort to hide the suspiciously large wolf pelts they had curing."

"They have no reason to trust the Ministry," O'Connor pointed out, "but I think they wanted us to know that they helped."

Bones nodded. "That's what I was thinking, too. Let's send them... something. I don't know what — I don't know much about centaur culture. Get someone from the Magical Creature Liaison office up here this week so they can tell me about what centaurs like but have trouble getting. Then we'll send them a bunch of it as an official thank you. Maybe we can use this to start improving relations with them."

That folder was closed and another opened. "What about the last four missing persons: Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Cormac McLaggen, and Dolores Umbridge?"

"Still no sign of McLaggen and Umbridge beyond the blood and bits of clothing we found at the boat entrance to the castle which the incoming first-year students always use," Scrimgeour answered. "I think we're going to have to accept that they are probably dead."

"Eaten by werewolves?" Bones asked with a shiver.

"I'd have thought that even werewolves would have better taste than to eat Umbridge," O'Connor muttered.

"McLaggen's uncle Tiberius isn't going to like that," Scrimgeour commented. "He's been floo-calling my office almost every day, looking for information. I even sent aurors to his house to take a statement, just to get him off my back, but he won't let up."

"Perhaps you should point out to him that given what his nephew is reported to have done at Hogwarts, he may be better off dead or missing," O'Connor noted.

"And Malfoy?" Bones asked, trying to move the meeting forward.

"No one has been able to come up with a satisfactory explanation for how he could have gotten out of the Ministry without being seen," Scrimgeour answered. "We've found his blood and... an important piece of him which Miss Potter admitted to having severed, but that's it." Scrimgeour shifted uncomfortably as O'Connor tried and failed to stifle a snicker. "Even his wand was missing. As for Severus Snape, he was at least seen leaving, and we have put up posters with a picture of him. So far, though, no one has come forward with any information about him."

"I think they both left the country, possibly together," O'Connor added.

Scrimgeour nodded. "I think they probably fled as well, though not necessarily together.

"List McLaggen and Umbridge as Missing," Bones said. "Without actual bodies — or at least enough pieces to make up two bodies — I'm not quite willing to assume that they are gone. And if they do turn up, I want them for questioning at the very least. List the other two as Wanted, then send notices about all four of them to all the other magical ministries."

Yet another folder was opened up. "Next," Bones announced, "we need to start preparing for the trials of the few surviving Death Eaters..."

* * *

 **Friday, June 9, 1996, Evening.**

"Are you ready for this?" Hermione asked, looking uncertain.

"No, but we might as well do it," Jasmine replied.

Taking a deep breath, they entered the pensieve and found themselves in McGonagall's office. She was pouring tea at the table they always used, just as if they had arrived for their weekly get-together. Once her tea was prepared, she looked in their general direction and said, "Hello Jasmine, Hermione. It feels a bit odd, talking to you even though you're not here, but that's why I served myself some tea. It felt... appropriate."

She took a sip before continuing. "I got the idea of doing this from Albus when I learned that he was creating memories of his own for you. Hopefully he doesn't mind, but I'm sure he'll let you use his pensieve for this. After these past couple of years, a final letter felt too... impersonal. There are so many things I'd like to say to you... so many things I should say, or perhaps should have said, but have been unable to."

Setting the teacup back down on the table, she folded her hands in her lap and sat in silence for a long moment before saying, "Thank you for giving me the chance to help you. I'm sorry it took me so long to start, but I appreciate that you gave me the opportunity to set things right. I've felt quite honored to have been allowed to help a couple with a soul bond, especially since..."

She trailed off and was silent again for a bit. "I don't think I've ever felt closer to any other students, or more a part of their lives. I think it's partly because... I don't know for sure, but I'm think that Bonnie and I were forming a soul bond as well when we were young — a bond which I broke when I so foolishly refused to follow her in leaving our homes." Jasmine and Hermione gasped in surprise as Minerva dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Breaking a soul bond isn't exactly an evil act, but it does come with negative consequences," she continued. "I think that's why I was never able to find anyone else I could be happy with... why I've had trouble finding happiness at all in my personal life, at least until you two came along. I think that whatever harm I caused myself was finally healed, at least somewhat, by working with the two of you. I've been happier these past couple of years than I can ever remember being, except of course for when I was still with Bonnie."

Hermione instinctively reached out to her, but just as quickly pulled her hand back, remembering that there was no one there to comfort anymore.

"So you see," Minerva said, "I owe the two of you more than I can ever say. It's one reason why I've left you all my personal effects, barring a few mementos to some old friends. I'm also leaving you memories in which I explain some advanced transfiguration concepts and spells that I suspect we never got to cover together, assuming that you're watching this because I didn't survive the war with Voldemort. There are books that cover these topics, but there's nothing that can replace watching an expert do them. If you pay attention and practice what I show you, you shouldn't have any problem getting Os on both the practical and written portions of your Transfiguration NEWTs!"

Both Jasmine and Hermione smiled ruefully at the idea that she was still giving them homework, even now.

Minerva paused and seemed to gather herself, and when she spoke, her voice broke a little. "Finally... I want you both to know that I'm very proud of you. In fact, I don't think I could be prouder, even if you were my own daughters. I also expect to be proud of all the amazing things you're surely going to accomplish. If there's one thing that I most regret about the thought of dying, it's that I won't get a chance to experience and share them with you. I'm not a seer, and Merlin knows I've never put much stock in divination, but I do believe that the future holds great things for you. So promise me that you won't keep looking backwards, and that you won't allow your hearts to be filled with regrets or grief, as I did. You have each other, which is a precious gift — focus instead on that, and make the most of it."

* * *

Once the two witches emerged from the pensieve, they immediately fell against each other, sobbing quietly over the loss of a relationship that had been cut off far too soon.

* * *

 **Tuesday, June 13, 1996, Evening.**

Cormac McLaggen looked around at the dense forest, wondering how he'd gotten himself into such a Merlin-bedamned mess. _At least it's summer_ , he thought. _I can't imagine being here in the middle of winter!_

"Where are we again?" came the increasingly annoying voice.

"Gloucestershire," McLaggen answered with an exasperated sigh, trying not to stare at the giant pimple on her nose. "My uncle and I used to hunt nogtails in this forest before we discovered that the hunting was much better in Norfolk." _I should have tried to get to my uncle sooner_ , he lamented silently. They had finally reached his house, expecting the promise of safety, only to find aurors leaving as they approached. With even Tiberius being watched, they had been on the run ever since.

"It's not a pleasant place," she complained. "No shelter, no food—"

"That's the point of being out in the wild," McLaggen said impatiently, cutting her off. "We can't go into any magical areas because the Ministry is looking for us. You refuse to go anywhere near muggle villages..."

"Filthy animals, all of them," Umbridge muttered. "Of course they'd want to live in a place like this — they have no self-respect. No value."

"Right, well, that doesn't leave us many options, does it?" McLaggen said, a bit of heat edging into his voice. _I wonder if I can claim to have been put under the Imperius curse? They'll still believe that excuse, won't they?_

"If Cornelius were still in charge, we wouldn't have any problem," Umbridge said. "I'm quite sure that harridan Bones did something illegal to get rid of him. She's probably been in league with Dumbledore and Potter all along."

"I'm not sure that matters much right now," McLaggen retorted. "At the moment, we need to worry about food." _All the more so with you here and unable to contribute._ He had to work to stifle a groan. _I thought rescuing her would help secure my position with the Ministry, not drag me down! What if I said that_ _ **she**_ _put me under the Imperius curse? That might work..._

"I still can't believe those werewolves destroyed my favorite pink cardigan," Umbridge continued, clearly not listening to him. "Ripped it all to shreds! I just know I'm going to freeze... At least I have you here, my dear boy. I'm sure that together we'll work something out."

He saw her start to lift her skirt and hastily turned away, once again cursing the awkwardness of his situation. As a result, he never saw her adjust the bandage on a bleeding bite wound.

* * *

 **Wednesday, June 21, 1996, Evening, 9:30 PM. Callanish on the Isle of Lewis.**

"Welcome sisters... and brothers," Apolline said, smiling at the three young wizards in their circle. At Jasmine and Hermione's request, Neville, Ron, and Blaise had been permitted to take part in this year's Midsummer celebration. Not every veela ritual would be appropriate for including wizards — the allure alone would always present complications — but they had been willing to allow it this time as a sort of trial run.

Tonks stood beside the three, looking every bit as wide-eyed and excited as they did.

"Today is Midsummer's Eve," Apolline continued, "the beginning of midsummer, which is the longest day of the year. Today is the day when we celebrate the power of the sun that gives us light, warmth, and life. A day when we recognize the bonds we have with each other, just as the sun binds all life together. A day when we remember how we depend on each other, just as we depend on the sun."

It was at this point that Jasmine suddenly stepped forward from the circle and said in a voice thick with emotion, "We should also take a moment to remember and celebrate the life of someone who isn't here with us tonight... someone who also helped connect us, who helped nurture the bonds we have with one another."

"Someone who served as a mentor and guide for us all," Hermione continued, coming to stand next to Jasmine and giving her a watery smile. "We're speaking of course of Minerva McGonagall, whose first ritual with us was exactly one year ago."

Jasmine raised her mug of mead, which she had not yet finished when the idea to do this had suddenly come to her. "To Minerva McGonagall," she said.

"To Minerva McGonagall," chorused the others, including the veela, also raising their mugs and drinking.

The girls stepped back into the circle, with Jasmine now looking embarrassed at having interrupted the ritual.

"Thank you," Apolline said, "I should have thought to do something like that." She then proceeded with the ritual much as Juliette had the previous year, and as the sun dropped close to the horizon, she distributed discs for the creation of new protection amulets made from a stout birch branch given by the centaurs in the forest near Hogwarts. A large group of fairies came to investigate, attracted by both the flowers and the magic.

Soon they were lighting their midsummer candles, each passing the flame to the person standing next to them as the magic swirled around their ankles and the central fire grew higher. Ron and Neville were clearly nervous despite - or perhaps because of - having been told what would happen, but they gamely pressed on. Blaise looked expectant, and there was a light in his eyes that wasn't usually there. Tonks kept looking around her in wonder.

When the last candle was lit and all the pooling magic rushed into the bonfire, it exploded upward like a volcano, spewing flames as far as the eye could see. Then, just as suddenly, the pillar of fire collapsed down, sending a wave of magic and fire racing outward, passing through the ritual participants and across all of northern Scotland and nearby islands.

It was close to midnight when they were joined by a group of a dozen wizards and witches led by Alessandra Zabini — including Sirius, which surprised everyone. They'd finished their own ritual at a nearby stone circle, and as they'd arranged through Blaise, the two groups mingled together and spent the next hours getting to know each other as they waited for the dawn. It provided an opportunity for Jasmine and Hermione to introduce themselves to Alessandra's people. They no longer had a hostile Ministry to contend with, but a grassroots movement of support would still prove useful.

As Jasmine had once said, they still had one prophecy to go, and they'd need all the help they could get to navigate the political and cultural shoals they were facing in Britain.

* * *

All across Scotland, plants of every type were opening in anticipation of the dawn that was about to break. Animals, too, both magical and mundane, were up and moving, as if they knew that this, the longest day of the year, was something special.

Within the boundaries of the great stone circle of Callanish, two groups of people were mixed together and forming up to greet the dawn, much as their ancestors had nearly five thousand years earlier when the megalith site was first constructed. Just outside, a group of goblins watched and waited.

"It is time for a new dawn," Apolline announced. "A new dawn for a new day, a day in which we must all strive and work together to build, to grow, and to love. For without love, there is no magic, there is no life, and there is no future."

As a cuckoo sang in the distance, some motes of light floating in the long avenue leading up to the stone circle pulled together, coalescing into a shimmering mass of golden radiance. Slowly it began to drift along the avenue towards the circle, drawing more light to itself as it moved. By the time it finally reached the circle, stopping right behind Jasmine and Hermione, it had resolved into a figure that was too bright to look at easily, but which was clearly feminine in nature and which appeared to be draped in a flowing golden robe.

The gasps from the others caused Jasmine and Hermione to turn around to face the being of light, who seemed to smile at them. Just then, the sun rose over the horizon, sending its rays down along the avenue and momentarily blinding everyone. When they could see again, the being was gone; on the ground where she had stood were two silvery brooches of a stylized female figure with large breasts and hips, swathed in a gown of gold.

As Jasmine and Hermione were showing the brooches to the others, they found themselves surrounded by several shocked goblins.

"I don't believe it," Lufestre said in a hoarse whisper.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

With a slightly shaking hand, Lufestre pulled back the edge of her outer robe to reveal that she was wearing the exact same brooch.

"Is that...?" Hermione asked.

Lufestre nodded. "The gift I and another received on Yule."

"Isn't that the symbol of your Goddess?" Jasmine asked.

Lufestre nodded again. "She has a name, one which only the priestesses are allowed to use: Ishtar. Later known to humans as Astarte, Aphrodite, Miranda, and Venus."

"The embodiment of love," Jasmine said softly as she put her arm around Hermione. "Did... did she really just visit us?"

"I think so," Hermione said, just as softly. "I feel... lighter now. More hopeful."

"Yeah... I feel like everything is going to turn out alright in the end."


	52. Epilogue - Going to the Chapel

**A/N:** I'm sure that I've mentioned it before, but since some readers expect things to go on, I'm going to make it clear that you should treat this as the end of Jasmine and Hermione's story (except perhaps for a "deleted scenes" one-shot that I'm thinking of publishing). I regret the fact that this story is ending as much as anyone. It's played a huge role in my life for the last 19 months, after all. I won't say that it's impossible that I'll continue, and I did create a long, detailed outline of future events in order to write this epilogue, but the chances that it will become a full story are slim. There are simply too many other stories that I'm interested in writing, and I'm not sure that I could do a fourth installment justice since it would involve a lot of international politics and conflicts.

If you enjoyed this series, please leave a review letting me know — and don't forget to thank Bonnie for all her time and effort! I hope you'll also take a look at some of my other stories as well. Visit my profile to learn about my upcoming schedule, and follow me as an author to be notified as soon as anything new is published.

 **A/N 2:** This epilogue is very dense with information - much more so than any of the regular chapters. What's more, some information is implied rather than explained in detail. I advise people read it carefully, and possibly more than once.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

 **Recommendation:** This chapter's recommended fic is "A Thousand Years" by Alorkin (available on FicWad, not here). For the past millennium Harry's life has been empty of meaning or purpose. Killed while trying to escape the gilded cage that has become his prison, he is given a chance to return to his youth and set things right. H/Hr.

* * *

 **Epilogue - Going to the Chapel**

 **Ritual Circle, Hogwarts Enchanted Forest. March 21, 2015.**

 _Breathe, Jasmine. Deep breaths._

 _This is the best day of my life. Why am I so terrified?_

"Nerves?" came a voice behind her, and Jasmine jumped slightly. Her dressing room for the wedding was simply an area screened off by hanging fabric, so there was no door to hear open. She would have been happy eloping to Gretna Green and saying their vows over the anvil, but Hermione had insisted on a proper wedding, and then had argued that the ritual circle in the Enchanted (formerly Forbidden) Forest was the only appropriate spot.

Jasmine tried to turn, but Lavender forced her head back to face her. "I'm not done yet," she said sternly. "I still need to finish your eyes, so close them again." Jasmine sighed and did as she was told. Fortunately, she'd recognized the voice and didn't need to look to know who it was.

"How're you doing, kitten?" Sirius asked.

"Fine."

"Oh, I know that tone of voice," he said. "For you, 'fine' could mean anything."

Jasmine sighed again, knowing that Sirius was one of the few people in her life she couldn't easily deflect. "I _am_ fine," she insisted. "I'm just... I don't know, nervous, maybe? But I don't know why."

"You're not getting cold feet, are you?" Sirius asked, sounding a little worried.

"Morgana, no! I haven't changed my mind — I've wanted this ever since... well, I guess ever since we chose to finalize the bond, at least. We tied our lives together then, years ago. So why would I be nervous now?"

"I suppose everyone is when they get hitched," he said. "I was pretty nervous, too, when I was in your position. Remember?"

"Morgana, yes," Jasmine said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "But you and Alessandra weren't already bonded, though. Hermione and I have a bond that's stronger and deeper than the bond created by magical marriage. We're already more than married, so why would a wedding make me nervous?"

"Stage fright?" Lavender suggested as she started applying makeup to Jasmine's left eye.

"Maybe at one time," Jasmine conceded, "but I've gotten a lot better at speaking in front of an audience. Still don't like it, but I can handle it."

"True, but you've never made any sort of public commitment to Hermione," Gabrielle pointed out.

"What do you mean?" Jasmine asked as she opened her right eye and looked to where her bridesmaid had been sitting, keeping her company. She couldn't see her well at that angle, which was the only reason she dared look.

Gabrielle shrugged. "Everything you two have done to bind yourselves to each other has been in private. In public, you have had to spend a lot of time pretending not to be a couple. The rest of the time, your relationship has simply been assumed. It's never been proclaimed in any way except for when your soul bond was announced. And even then, it was just a press release."

"She's got a point," Sirius said. "Your soul bond might be deeper and stronger than marriage, but it isn't legal marriage in either the muggle or magical world. No other relationship is quite the same, or comes close to creating the same sorts of social, legal, or personal ties. There are no true legal or social alternatives to real marriage, and isn't that what you two always contended in your fight to legalize marriages like this? You've spent nearly twenty years arguing that marriage is vital and significant, regardless of the sex of those getting married."

"And that means it's still something you can get nervous about," Gabrielle concluded. "Have you heard anything from the Ministry, Sirius?"

"I talked to Amelia when she and Susan arrived, and she said the current Minister is still being tight-lipped about this," he answered. "But that's what she expected all along — that they would avoid saying anything until they absolutely had to, then they would quietly give their approval as the law requires."

"As _your_ law requires, you mean," Jasmine pointed out as Lavender put on the finishing touches. "You're the one who thought ahead far enough to pass that law back in '98 requiring the Ministry of Magic to recognize all muggle marriages." Same-sex marriage had just become legal among muggles in Scotland a few months earlier, and it was this loophole that they were taking advantage of now. When she saw that Sirius had puffed up a bit at her praise, she added, "It was very Slytherin of you."

Sirius scowled slightly, but that was the extent of his reaction. Ever since his reconciliation with his mother, whose portrait was out with the guests, it had become a lot harder to rile him up with comparisons to Slytherin.

Jasmine stood and blinked slowly as she admired herself in the mirror. "Wow. I didn't know I could look so good! Thanks, Lav — I never could have done this."

"Magic's great, but makeup still looks better when applied by hand," Lavender said with a smile as she packed up to leave. "I'd better go see how Hermione is doing."

Jasmine was still admiring Lavender's handiwork when she felt a presence behind her. She turned to find Blaise at the entrance, and for a moment, she thought she saw a look of tenderness cross his features before they were quickly schooled into their usual impassivity.

"They, uh, did a nice job on your dress," he said with a gesture of his head. "I was just checking to see if you needed anything."

Not fooled for a moment, Jasmine gave him a warm smile. "I love you too, little brother."

She couldn't quite make out what he was grumbling as he stalked off, but the phrase "...by one bloody week!" was clearly audible as the fabric rustled closed.

She gazed fondly after him, then looked sidelong at Sirius. "I love doing that — gets him every time," she said with a wicked grin.

Sirius chuckled. "Better be careful — he might decide to get back at you by transfiguring the flower girl's petals into dung bombs."

"Nah, too crude — this isn't the Weasley twins we're talking about. No, it's much more likely that one of these mornings, I'll wake up to find he's laced my pumpkin juice with aging potion and I look about 50 years older." She shrugged, unconcerned. "I'm sure he'd consider that poetic justice."

"Well, at least Hermione will still love you no matter how you look," Sirius said helpfully. He regarded her for a moment, and his eyes were soft with wonder as he put his hands on her shoulders. "You do look gorgeous, though."

Jasmine smiled and gave her second father a hug. "Thanks."

"And you look gorgeous, too," Sirius said as he released her and turned to Gabrielle. "Not that you don't usually, of course, but Lavender did a great job with you as well."

There was a short, awkward silence as Sirius looked at the two women, then he cleared his throat and said that he needed to get back out to his seat. Jasmine was pretty sure that there were tears in his eyes when he left, but she'd keep that to herself.

In a traditional wedding, he'd have stayed so he could escort Jasmine up the aisle, just as Lindsey would have escorted Hermione. But that would have intersected with the tradition of "giving the bride away," something neither of them would have approved of even if they could have figured out how to work it that they could be "given away" to each other.

No, after so many years of fighting for equality and pushing the boundaries of magic, they weren't about to tolerate being treated like property, not even metaphorically. They were independent witches who were entering marriage together because it was what they wanted.

Not that that made Jasmine feel any less nervous as she stood by the entrance, waiting for her cue to start walking down her aisle.

"The sky is lovely this evening," Gabrielle said softly, and Jasmine automatically looked up, something she been studiously avoiding for the past several years. She'd forgotten that the sky was easily visible even from within the dressing area. Gabrielle was right, of course. The sky _was_ lovely, painted with fiery reds and purples that would challenge even the most expert artist. Jasmine found it breathtaking — the perfect backdrop for a wedding.

And she hated it.

She hated it because it was her fault that the upper atmosphere was filled with so many tiny particles that produced such colors.

So many tiny pieces of earth, flora, and fauna. Dirt, rock, and bone. It was all that remained of the island of Sardinia, blanketing the planet in a beauty that could only be produced through cataclysmic destruction.

At least the muggle residents had had enough time to evacuate before the volcano she'd created in her madness had reached its full destructive force, but that didn't make her feel any better, especially not when she saw the wild colors produced at every sunset since. They were another reminder of what she'd done in her rage at those who had dared lay hands on Hermione.

The thought made her glance unwillingly at Gabrielle. Her strapless dress didn't let her pretend that the younger veela wasn't horribly scarred beyond magic's ability to repair. Usually the rough, twisted burns were mostly hidden beneath her clothing, with only a little bit visible above her collar, but now there was no missing the scars that covered her shoulder, the upper part of her arm, and much of her back.

When she and Hermione had first learned that the two veela were their shieldmaidens, Jasmine had never thought that Gabrielle would ever take that title so literally, shielding the auburn-haired witch with her own body to protect her.

Protect her from the effects of her own spells, no less.

Still, this was a wedding. Her wedding. It wasn't time for self-recrimination or brooding. Breathing in deeply again, she lifted her chin and stood a little straighter, forcing herself to focus on Hermione, the love of her life. It was Hermione she'd been trying to retrieve that day, after all. Hermione had been saved while those who took her had suffered.

And no one had ever tried anything like that again. At least, nothing that direct against them. _Morgana knows, the fighting isn't over._

Jasmine risked peeking out at the assembled guests, all sitting in a semi-circular arrangement that faced an altar around which were positioned four statues of different goddesses of love. The altar in the center of the ritual circle had two separate aisles leading away from it instead of the single, central aisle typically found in churches. One aisle connected to Jasmine's dressing area while the other connected to Hermione's; when it was time, they would simultaneously walk to the altar on converging paths, just as the paths of their lives had converged at Hogwarts.

Lufestre Gydenna was already standing by the altar, which meant that the rest of the goblin contingent had made it as well. Next to her was Oliver Wood, who would be performing the actual ceremony. Hermione hadn't been entirely happy about using him, but he was the only resident of Scotland they knew who had a muggle background, allowing him to become an authorised Registrar who could legally perform civil marriages.

Looking to her left, Jasmine saw the other dressing area located about a quarter of the way along the ring of trees that formed the border to the forest. That was where Hermione was waiting with Fleur, secluded from Jasmine and Gabrielle. They hadn't been allowed to see each other since the previous morning, shortly after they'd completed that year's Eostre ritual with their full coven — apparently, it wasn't just grooms who weren't allowed to see the bride before the ceremony!

Yesterday had been the first time in several years that they'd all come back to perform a ritual in the Forest, and effects of their magic could already be seen in the budding trees and flowers. Even the famously fickle Scottish weather had decided to cooperate and grace them with a beautifully warm spring day. Jasmine suspected divine intervention.

She turned her attention back to the crowd, and it seemed to her that for a small, private wedding, there sure were an awful lot of people here. The veela alone took up half the seats. Looking a bit more closely, she quickly picked out the Greengrasses and Patils, the Weasleys and Lovegoods, the Davises and Longbottoms. Sirius was shaking Lindsey's hand and gave Emma a peck on the cheek before sitting down himself next to Alessandra; Blaise, Remus and Tonks were on the other side of her. Close to the front were Amelia and Susan, with the customary empty seat next to the latter. Jasmine's throat tightened at the memory before she forced herself to move on, not wanting to dwell on their loss of Hannah in the tragic terrorist attack on King's Cross three years earlier, a strike against the growing number of muggleborn which the coven had eventually realized was due to their rituals.

"Everyone here?" Gabrielle asked.

"Looks like it," Jasmine replied, grateful for the distraction. "Oh, here come Lillian and Violette!"

"Are you ready? Are you ready?" the overly excitable eight-year-old veela cried out as she bounded into the dressing area.

"Yes, but are _you_ ready?" Jasmine asked as she bent down to look Violette in the eye. "This is a big responsibility, you know."

"Of course I am!" she insisted. "I'm a lot more ready than Artie or the twins!" When Phoebe and Areto had decided to expand their family, they wisely chose not to do it on Beltane, so Violette was the sole youngest child and was rather spoiled by her mothers and older sisters. She and her best non-veela friend, Arthur Longbottom, regularly got into trouble together, driving all their parents spare.

"Then you'd better take the flower petals and quit running around!" Lillian scolded her, handing over the basket before reaching up to give Jasmine a hug. "You look amazing, Mum." She pulled back and fingered the green tartan sash Jasmine was wearing across her wedding dress. "What's this? I don't remember it from the fittings."

"It's Minerva's," Jasmine explained. "It's not technically appropriate, since we're not part of her clan, but we both wanted to honor her."

Lillian smiled. "I think she'd like that."

"I thought that all the bridesmaids were supposed to be waiting by the altar, even the junior bridesmaid?"

"I will, Mum," Lillian replied, rolling her eyes in a manner that was pure Hermione. "I wanted to make sure the brats made it back here."

"Oi, I'm not a brat!" Violette objected, fisting her tiny hands into her hips. "I'm just too small for my personality!"

Jasmine frowned and looked around. "Speaking of which... where are the twins?"

Lillian's eyes widened comically as she looked behind her. "Oh, shite!"

"Language," came the admonishment — from Violette, of all people, not that Lillian noticed. She was too busy rushing out of the dressing area.

"I've got them," everyone could hear Neville, Jasmine's best man, call out, just before he walked in with a hand on each of her and Hermione's five-year-old twins.

"You were supposed to stick with me!" Lillian hissed as she and Ron followed, but they ignored her in favor of looking up at their mother with well-practiced expressions of beatific innocence.

No one was buying it.

"Which of these delinquents is your ring bearer, and which should I take to Hermione?" Ron asked.

Jasmine pointed to the twin on Neville's left and said, "Holly, go with Ron to Mummy."

"That's not Holly, I'm Holly!" the second twin replied. "Honestly, Mum, can't you tell your own daughters apart?"

"Sorry..." Jasmine started.

"Just kidding! I _am_ Holly," the first twin interrupted before running off.

Jasmine took a deep breath and fixed Ron with a glare. "I'm going to kill your brothers. You know that, right?"

Ron gave her a look that said, "Get in line," before heading off after the young miscreant.

"Just think: when I start Hogwarts next year, you two get them all to yourselves!" Lillian quipped before dashing out as well.

"I don't know how you manage with three," Neville said as the giggling Hazel pulled Violette aside and started whispering. "I can barely cope with just the one."

"I sometimes wonder that myself. There was a time I never thought I'd have children. Or marry, for that matter."

"Well, you're about fix that. Are you ready?" Neville asked.

"As I'll ever be," Jasmine replied, straightening a little.

"How about you, sweetie?" Neville asked Violette, who was looking far too innocent now to be entirely trustworthy. Jasmine shuddered and made a mental note to have someone keep a close eye on her and the twins during the reception. The last thing they needed was a repeat of the cake incident.

"Ready, Uncle Nev!"

Just then they heard the piper start up, and Neville poked his head outside. "That's it, they're starting," he announced before hurrying out to take his position.

"Come on, Hazel, you're first," Gabrielle said as she handed the ginger witch a pillow with a ring. Hazel peeked out so she could time her exit with her twin across the way, and after a second she was gone. Gabrielle then guided Violette out of the dressing area so she could begin distributing flower petals on the ground, just as Neville's son Artie was doing on the other aisle for Hermione.

After a few seconds Gabrielle gave her the signal to follow, and Jasmine walked out herself, knowing that her maid of honor would be a few steps behind, watching her back as always. For better and for worse.

As she slowly walked down her aisle, she snuck a glance over to her left where Hermione was walking in front of Fleur. If Jasmine wasn't mistaken, Hermione looked as nervous as she felt, if not more so. That actually made her feel a tiny bit better.

Before she knew it, she was standing in front of the altar and Hermione was right next to her, looking radiant in her dress. Jasmine's breath caught at the sight, and she was glad that she didn't have to say anything yet, because she wasn't sure she'd be able to get the words out.

"Okay, ladies," Oliver said with a grin, speaking just loudly enough for those at the altar to hear. "This is it. The big one. The one we've all been waiting for."

Jasmine tried — she really did — but she was unable to hold in an unladylike snort while Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. Lufestre, who was there to solemnize the magic, gave him a puzzled look. "And I do mean it," Oliver continued. "All your friends have been waiting for this for ages. I think some of us have been looking forward to this day almost as much as you two have."

Both Jasmine and Hermione were smiling now, their nervousness forgotten in the wake of Oliver's joke and his heartfelt words. The air around them began to shimmer with motes of light and energy.

"Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards, goblins, veela, and other magical beings," Oliver said, speaking loudly and clearly now. "We are gathered here today under the auspices of Magic..."


End file.
